


Widdershins

by lurkdusoleil



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Urban Fantasy, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkdusoleil/pseuds/lurkdusoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine is completely and utterly unsatisfied with his charmed life. But a rainy night, a bar, and a beautiful, frustrating man are going to open up his definition of the word <i>charmed.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This fic is being written for raspberriesandcolfer and 100percenthpfan, who requested "Klaine at a playboy mansion" and "urban fantasy" respectively. So I took the idea I once wrote in the tags of a gif, with Kurt as an Elf Lord who runs a bar, and turned it into something more than a bar (don't worry, Hef doesn't make an appearance), and let it fly. This is the beginning.
> 
> This is a WIP, and will be posted as it is written. I have no idea how long it's going to be. I seem to do better when I just let these things come as they will, so here we go.
> 
> Thank you to bordering-on-the-avant-garde for the flailing about Celtic mythology, idoltina for using me to procrastinate, and both for the beta work.
> 
> [Glossary of Terms](http://lurkdusoleil.tumblr.com/post/76658517261/widdershins-glossary)

It is, predictably, raining.  


Blaine's dressed for better weather, and he's miserable. He can't bear the thought of continuing his life as it is--the thrill of performance is no longer feeding him. He feels bloated with it, too stuffed, stretching and tearing down his seams. He's doing four rehearsals a week and classes and it's not fulfilling him at all. Just filling his time. Wasting it.  
And it's raining.  


It's the sort of time his flair for drama kicks in without his conscious effort to bring it out. Rather than get home and just get dry like a sensible person, Blaine gets lost in thought and misses his stop on the train. Petulant and exhausted, he just sits in an empty seat and lets the train take him--what does it matter? He doesn't want to go home, he doesn't want to go back to school, he doesn't want to try to pick up an extra shift at the diner. Something is missing in all three places, and he hardly frequents anywhere else because he doesn't have the time. So what does it matter where he goes? He might as well just see where it takes him, give himself some time to mope.  


So he does it. He risks getting a serious cold, he risks getting lost, and he just gets off at a random station and starts walking, his eyes finding a good place somewhere between straight forward and at his shoes--you can't really look down in New York City, but you can't look up, either. He's long ago stopped feeling the urge to look around. He's lost the magic of it all. So he remains fixed--staring at nothing, trudging along, the sidewalks a path of grey cutting through the grey air and the grey buildings and the grey people.  


Somewhere around the time that a blister starts forming on his right heel, he sees blue.  


He has no idea where he is. Not a single clue. But before him is a wide building that might once have been a warehouse, four stories of old wavering full-sized glass windows, each little pane of glass a different shade of clear, the plastered brick crumbling along the foundation. And above the double doors, there's a blue neon frame, stylized and ornate, around a dark sign that simply reads _Widdershins_.  


Blaine has never wanted to find out what the hell a place is more than now. The urge is simple and immediate, like looking up at the building somehow hooked him into it, the pull coming right from his core, and he might as well float in by his bellybutton from how easily he walks to the door and pulls it open.  


A short, dark hallways, and another set of doors, and Blaine hears chatter growing as he heads toward it, guided by the warm light seeping around the edges. Clinking of glass, laughter, singing, rowdy and raucous. It sounds like a bar, and when Blaine opens the doors and steps in, he finds it is.  


And he finds it completely silent. Every head turns to look at him, and he freezes, overcome with doubt. Knowing his luck, he walked into a mafia bar and he's going to be escorted out at the tip of a baseball bat. Or a knife. Or a gun. Or--  
The bartender nods. He walks slowly past the dark wood tables, filled with all manner of staring people, and then takes a seat on one of the leather stools and smiles gratefully at the bartender, a rather cute man with spiked hair and eyeliner.  
"What can I get you?"  


Blaine looks up at the drinks menu behind him. He doesn't recognize anything--the drinks have strange, unfamiliar names, like _Aisling_ and _Immrama Draught._  


"Uh--"  


The bartender's eyes narrow. He clearly realizes Blaine does not belong here, a fact of which Blaine is becoming increasingly aware by the itching in his spine, the one that tells him he should probably be running. Instead, he scans the list and decides to get a drink, down it, and leave. That should look natural enough, and then he can get the hell out--  


"I'll have a--a Nenadmim," Blaine says uncertainly. "Um. Please."  


The bartender nods, and pulls a glass, staring at Blaine as he pours a drink from what looks like a wooden ball, like a round flask. Which is...strange. Blaine doesn't comment as the drink is set before him.  


He sips cautiously and--and it's cider. It's just a hard cider, from what he can tell, the taste of apples strong on his tongue and the burn of alcohol evaporating in his throat. He swallows and sighs gratefully, considering it a success, and he nods at the bartender and drinks as quickly as he can without seeming like he's in a rush to get the hell out, which he absolutely is.  


"You're not one of us, are you."  


Blaine splutters, and blinks up at the bartender, wiping his chin of the cider that leaked out of his mouth and gasping around the bit he choked on.  


"Easy. No one's going to hurt you. But you don't belong here."  


"I can leave," Blaine says immediately, hopping down from his stool and pulling out his wallet. "I'm--I'm so sorry, I just saw this place and wanted to see what it was, I didn't mean to intrude--"  


"Just wait a second." The bartender studies him, one hand up placatingly, and Blaine pauses, his fingers trembling with what he'd loosely call terror. "You just...walked up and saw this place?"  


Blaine looks around briefly--everyone's watching him again. "Um...yes."  


"Who brought you?"  


"No one." He straightens up and clears his throat. "Um. I just...kind of ended up here. But I was alone."  


"I'm Elliot."  


The bartender's hand is out, and Blaine takes it cautiously, hoping his hand isn't sweating too much. Elliot doesn't seem to care either way--he just pulls his hand back and sidles over to the end of the bar, slipping out from behind it and approaching Blaine with a calculating look on his face.  


"Why don't you come with me, we'll get you a towel so you can dry off."  


There's nothing threatening about Elliot. He's certainly taller and wider than Blaine, but he's totally at ease, smiling, and Blaine feels at ease looking at him. Relaxed. Practically comfortable.  


He's still being stared at. But it doesn't really matter so much anymore. Someone is...showing him hospitality. That's more than he could ever expect from a stranger in this city, especially one he barged in on, in a place he didn't belong, filled with people he apparently wasn't one of, whatever that might mean. And their stares are just stares now, curious, but peaceful. Blaine feels peaceful.  


"Thank you," he says earnestly, and Elliot leads him behind the bar and through a wooden door, through a kitchen, and then up a set of stairs.  


"Here, should be something for you--" He slips into a door at the top of the stairs, the first in a long hallway of doors, all dark, warmly lit wood, lush carpet, mirrors and artwork. Blaine only gets a glance as Elliot beckons him in, and then he's in an apartment, and Elliot's tossing him a towel.  


"There, get dry, and come sit down."  


Elliot sits on a couch, and gestures to a chair next to it. Blaine mops up what water he can from his clothes and hair, and looks around. A simple enough apartment--a lot like any old loft in the city, exposed brick walls with patches of plaster, two walls entirely made up of windows, the living room around him and the rest of the apartment around walls to the left, all looking to be on the edge of crumbling in a way that's been deemed fashionable by people who probably wanted it to be fashionable when they couldn't manage to make it look new and neat. Either way, it's got its own run down charm, and everything filling it is mismatched and jumbled together and it's attractive and warm and feels lived-in. It feels special to the person living in it.  


Blaine sits in the chair, a wicker thing with a striped cushion, and smiles at Elliot. "Thank you. I really am sorry--"  


"Blaine, I have something to say to you, and I need you to listen, okay?"  


Blaine nods.  


"Normal people can't see this place. It doesn't exist on a map, it's not visible to the human eye. There is no way you could've entered it without some kind of magic."  


"Magic?" Blaine blurts. "I--I beg your pardon?"  


"Magic," Elliot repeats, nodding like Blaine is naive and being taught something obvious about the world. "In your blood, or in the blood of someone escorting you. And you came alone. So...it has to be yours."  


"I'm--I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean," Blaine says, rising, his voice shaking. He's--what has he gotten himself into, he's alone with a crazy bartender-- "I should go, I really shouldn't have come in the first place."  


"How did I know your name?"  


That makes Blaine pause. "I--we introduced ourselves--"  


"I introduced myself," Elliot corrects. "You didn't. So how do I know your name? How do I know that you are Blaine Anderson, twenty one years old, and so completely and utterly miserable with your life that you walked into a strange bar by yourself in a strange part of town just because?"  


"How--you're reading my mind?"  


It doesn't make sense, he didn't hand over his ID, this man can't know him, can he--  


"I'm not," Elliot says, laughing. "I don't have an ounce of telepathy. But you have been projecting since you took that sip of cider."  


"Projecting."  


Elliot rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Broadcasting. I'm guessing you're a little empathic, but your power has been locked up in the human world. Have you ever experienced anything you can't explain? Learning things way too easily, knowing things you shouldn't know, influencing people to do things you want or to like you without knowing how?"  


The last suggestion hits Blaine hard. People have always really liked him. His mother called him charming. His father said it was the Anderson blood. People of all kinds wanted to be around him, liked him, did things for him. He got leads and parts and solos without trouble, he was handed things, he was _lucky._ Always has been, and part of his recent funk has been feeling like that luck just isn't enough. He's never had to _try_ for anything. He's always been well-liked. But...he's never felt well-loved. There's always...a distance.  


"There you go," Elliot says softly, and Blaine looks up, hardly aware of his eyes watering up.  


"What--what am I, then?" he asks, giving in to the moment. Nothing makes sense apart from this, even if it's only beginning to--and once all other options have been exhausted, aren't you supposed to believe...?  


"You're like me," Elliot says. "You're a Changeling. You're Fae."


	2. Chapter 2

Fae. Sidhe. Faeries. Elves. They have many names. Some of them are accurate. Some of them aren't, so much. But Blaine learns, over the next half hour, just how much he doesn't know.

The Fae are the last remnants of magical beings on earth. Widdershins is one of the last havens for their kind in the country, though one of the smallest, being in a city--the Fae prefer to stay close to the forest, to nature, because their magic is based there and it strengthens them. But with the growth of human civilization, nature is becoming a much smaller portion of the earth, and the Fae have found themselves pushed to the edges while they remain hidden, keeping their powers a secret from the rest of the world out of sheer defense. They all know how humans react to anything they perceive to be either threat or tool.

But Widdershins exists unlike any other Fae community--in the midst of the humans. Hidden, yes, but at their center. The magic there is more tenuous, but the bar is not just a bar--it's like a gas station for energy. The drinks are brewed with magic, _mana_.

"So...downstairs...I just drank a magic potion?"

Elliot chuckles. "Essentially. How did you feel after you drank it?"

Blaine pauses, and considers. "I guess...I guess I felt calm? Like...just better."

A nod from Elliot, and that's the end of that.

"All right. Since you know about us, we're going to want to know about you."

Elliot stands, and Blaine rises with him, confused. "What--"

"Calm down," Elliot says easily. "We're not going to interrogate you. No need, with your powers."

"But wait," Blaine protests. "I--I don't know what you mean by that. What powers? I'm not--I'm not _doing_ anything."

Elliot studies him, and shakes his head. "You don't even...feel it? You don't...I don't know, feel like your thoughts are louder?"

"Not...any more than usual?"

Elliot shakes his head again. "Okay. Well. I don't have the answers. I just know it's happening, and while I'm sure it's very nice to get to know you, you're gonna have to learn to control that."

"How?"

"Jesus," Elliot sighs. "Where the hell do you think I'm taking you?"

He heads for the door, and Blaine follows.

\--

Blaine expects a longer trip, but they just go right back to the staircase and back down to the bar again. Elliot passes the bar with a nod to a blue-haired girl who's taken over tending, and leads Blaine to the curtained wall that had been on the right when he'd come in, opposite a low, empty stage on the opposite side of the barroom. Blaine had assumed the curtain was there for decoration--it's a beautifully rich black, just a hint of red shade to it. But Elliot approaches the center of it, just beyond the tables, and just...stands there

"Um--"

"Shut up."

Blaine shuts up. That was abrupt.

And then the curtain opens, just enough for them to pass through.

"Come on."

Once they're through, it shuts behind them. Blaine startles and looks back, so he hears before he sees what Elliot wants to show him.

_Who_ Elliot wants to show him. Or who Elliot wants to show _him_ to.

"How nice of you to bring me a present."

It's a voice that calls to mind the howl of strong wind. High, breathy, but powerful. Blaine whirls around and sees _him_.

He's sitting in a high wing-backed chair on a little dais, like a throne. He's leaning back in it, legs crossed in front of him, his arms resting casually over the sides. He's surrounded by several rather beautiful men, but Blaine's eyes lock to his, bright and piercing, and he can't look at anything but him.

"Kurt. This is Blaine."

Kurt. Kurt of the gold and black cotoure, Kurt of the ice pale skin and pointed ears and upswept copper hair. Kurt of the elegantly raised eyebrow and barely downturned lips, looking at Blaine as though his assessment has left something wanting.

"You've brought me...a human?" Kurt tilts his head, and looks Blaine up and down. "He's pretty, Elliot, but why is he here?"

"Give him a drink," Elliot suggests. "The first one probably wore off."

"The first?" Kurt asks, and then his lip curls up in one corner, shifting the lines of his face into something more lively, less distant. "You served him a drink? With no magic to speak of?" He waves his hand, though, and one of his company rises and walks to a drinks tray, pouring out something green into a small glass.

"He walked in here on his own," Elliot says. "There's magic there somewhere. Just watch."

Kurt turns to Blaine as he's handed his drink, catches him staring, and addresses him for the first time.

"If you're looking for pixie dust, you're out of luck," he says wryly. "Go ahead, handsome. Drink up."

Blaine looks down into the drink. It smells like herbs and flowers, pleasant and sharp under the alcohol. With a sigh and a faint shrug, Blaine tosses the drink back and swallows hard. It tingles in his throat burns up behind his eyes, and he hardly feels the glass taken from his hand as it hits him all at once.

"What _is_ that?"

"Bri," Kurt replies, and there's unabashed delight in his voice. "It's the purest drink we have, very difficult to make. It's pure distilled mana."

"Do you hear it?" Elliot asks, and Blaine glances over at him and then to Kurt. They're both staring at him, smiling, and Blaine feels himself flushing, the warmth flooding hard up to his cheeks, aided by the alcohol.

"A Changeling," Kurt breathes. "Leave us."

Without question, the group stands and files out through a side door, and Elliot winks at Blaine before heading back to the curtain. Within moments, Kurt's order is carried out, and they're alone. Blaine turns back to him nervously and lets out a shaky chuckle.

"Um. So."

"You don't even realize you're doing it, do you?" Kurt asks, standing up, all long limbs in tight clothes, the black fur of his vest fluttering around his shoulders as he approaches. He's taller than Blaine, but not by a lot--Kurt certainly looks taller than he really is, and though Blaine only has to look up a little bit to keep eye contact, it feels like Kurt is towering over him as he looks back and forth between Blaine's eyes, searching. "Everything...just there, for anyone to see. Open."

"Um...no, I--" Blaine clears his throat. He had something to say, but it disappears from his mind and leaves him spluttering until he can shake his head and come up with something else. "Uh...I just kind of...found out about this. Just now."

"Oh, I can hear that," Kurt says teasingly, smiling, little dimples appearing in his cheeks. God, he's just the most beautiful thing. And then Kurt laughs and blushes faintly. "Well, thank you."

"For what?"

"Blaine, I can hear everything you're thinking," Kurt say, amused. "You're projecting. We'll have to teach you to control that, but...it's refreshing. You're not hiding anything at all."

Blaine blinks and holds in his breath. "Um."

"Don't be embarrassed," Kurt says, and Blaine feels his hand slip into Blaine's own. "I can't see your deepest darkest secrets. That requires permission. But...I can hear so much..."

Kurt's almost right up against him, staring into him, and Blaine can't seem to catch his breath.

And then Kurt pulls away.

"How did you find this place?" he asks, two steps back and hand pulled from Blaine's own, narrowing his eyes. "In your own words."

"I--I just...found it," Blaine says. "I was...wandering around. I didn't want to go home. And I was just walking and I looked up and...it was here."

Kurt nods, as though it's no news to him, and then shakes his head with tight-lipped smile. "You just wander in off the street and into my club."

"Club?"

Kurt grins, now, and he looks about fourteen with his teeth bared and his eyes crinkled up. Innocent and happy. "This isn't just some tavern," he laughs. "You saw the stage, and my...friends. This is a theater, Blaine. A...a burlesque, of sorts."

Blaine licks his lips and cocks his head, thinking. "Is it...like a brothel?"

Kurt laughs again, and then shakes his head. "You're thinking like a human. Yes, I suppose it's something like a brothel, but we don't take payment for something that should be freely offered. If anyone wants to spend the night with anyone else, they do, and it's no one else's business unless they allow it. No payment, though I'm sure there's some energy exchanged regardless. That's just how it works."

"I'm...not following."

Kurt steps forward again. "We have a lot to teach you, Changeling. About yourself. About your world."

"You mean...the Fae world."

"Of course. You're home now. You've come back to us." Kurt lifts one of Blaine's hands and kisses his fingers lightly, smiling and swaying his shoulders back and forth, all sparkling eyes and playful smirks. "Welcome home."

"But...my home--"

"Is somewhere you don't even want to be?" Kurt challenges, eyebrows raised high. "You'd rather wander this city in the rain than be where you lay your head at night. Not much of a home. We could offer you so much more, here. You could be yourself."

Something about that clenches in Blaine's chest, and he exhales swiftly, blinking back sudden, intense emotion. And from the way Kurt softens, from the way he squeezes Blaine's hand and presses another kiss to it, he feels what Blaine is feeling.

"Stay," Kurt whispers.

Without another thought, Blaine nods.

_I'll stay._


	3. Chapter 3

"So...what exactly is a Changeling?"

Blaine's sitting on a low stool in front of Kurt's chair, fiddling with another drink Kurt had poured him--this one a simple, clear alcohol that didn't taste much different than vodka. It's settling him wonderfully--he feels absolutely relaxed, without the cloudiness that normal alcohol can sometimes give him. He's clear-headed. But his nerves are settled, and sitting with Kurt is...comfortable. Kurt's funny, and sharp, and absolutely interested in Blaine.

"Elliot's priorities for explaining things to you seems a little out of order," Kurt remarks, with another of his little sideways smirks. "You know all about the drinks, but nothing about yourself."

Blaine smiles. "So?"

"A Changeling is a Fae that is given to the human world at birth," Kurt explains. "One of the ones that looks human, anyway. I won't tell you how many trolls we've actually had in here."

Blaine isn't sure whether to laugh, whether it's a joke or completely true or both, but Kurt simply breezes on.

"The Changeling is given to a human couple--sometimes they know, sometimes they don't--and raised as their own. It...keeps the magic in your blood dormant, but present in the world. Bloodlines get passed to humans by Changelings who take human mates, most of them never knowing their origins. Changelings are a...a safeguard, I suppose. We're dying out, but we wouldn't risk opening ourselves to the human world. So we just...quietly place ourselves among you, sometimes. Fae make deals--for land, for mana, for power--and give a child in return, spreading ourselves and hoping that something can come of it. Keep magic alive in the human world, since humans are born without it."

"That's...wow, that's...a lot to process," Blaine huffs. "Um...so my parents...aren't my real parents?"

"Well, they raised you, so I suppose that's up to you," Kurt says. "The Fae who gave birth to you probably did so in the interest of creating a Changeling. Or they might've just been desperate for something. You could probably find out more from your human parents--if they know what you are, and if they do, why they asked for you."

Blaine feels...bad. Cooper's not his real brother? His mother, his father, they aren't his real parents? Is this what people feel like when they find out they've been adopted? Which is...basically exactly what's going on, actually.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, and his hand is over Blaine's around his drink, clasped between his knees. Blaine almost startles, but Kurt's touch is surprisingly familiar. "I know this is a lot."

"No, don't be sorry," Blaine says. "I just...I just need to process it."

Kurt nods. "Would you like to know more tonight, or would you like to head to bed? There are free apartments upstairs, we can find one for you easily."

"Um...I have a few more questions, I guess. Just...so I have what I need to get through tonight."

Kurt nods, and Blaine takes a breath. "What...what do you do, here? I mean, how do you make money? You said you take energy as payment."

"Oh, some of us have jobs out in the human world. Whatever we can get without calling too much attention to ourselves, jobs that suit us. Elliot tends bar at a human place a few blocks away when he's not doing it here. Some prey on humans for money, in various ways. Theft, conning, prostitution--"

"Really?"

"Sex doesn't have the taboos for us that it does for you, Blaine," Kurt says, his tone faintly admonishing. "You'll learn that when you've been here a while."

"So...I'm here? I don't...go back to my old life?"

Kurt smiles softly. "You can do whatever you want. If you want to go back and forget this ever happened at any point, you can go. No one will stop you." He leans forward, his face right in Blaine's. "But I don't think you want to go back. Do you?"

"I don't know yet," Blaine says honestly. Kurt nods and pulls back just a little bit.

"That's fair."

"And...what are you?" Blaine asks. "I mean...I know Fae have...different powers and such. Do you...do anything with yours? Outside of here?"

"I design fashion," Kurt says, grinning. "Some very popular designers pay me a great deal to design for them and let them put their name on it. But I'm paid to keep quiet, so."

"But...what are your powers?"

"I have quite a few," Kurt says. "My kind of Fae can...control."

"People?"

"Everything." Kurt leans back in his chair and sighs. "Elements. Mana. And yes, people. Though I try not to do that."

"...and what's your kind of Fae?"

"Elliot didn't tell you that either?" Blaine shakes his head, and Kurt rolls his eyes. "Figures. I'm...I guess you could call me...a prince. A Lord. I'm one of the Summer Lords."

Royalty. Blaine's not at all surprised, though he's certainly impressed. "Wow."

Kurt giggles. "It's not much out here. Most of the positions of real power are over in Europe and Asia. That's where we began. Our homeland. The Queens of Summer and Winter are still out there, holding vast court, I'm sure. We're a bit removed over here in the Americas. There's only one other court member out here, and he's in Brazil. Which, if you ask me, is a weird place for a Winter Lord to be, but whatever floats his boat."

"A Lord," Blaine breathes, thinking out loud. "That's...wow."

Kurt laughs loudly. "I think the term means more to you than it does to me. It's really just a title out here."

He leans forward again, taking Blaine's drink and setting both that and his own aside.

"We're on the fringe here, Blaine," Kurt says seriously. "This isn't a palace. We scrape by. But this land doesn't have much in the way of magic, especially with the humans razing every bit of land they can get their hands on. And I chose to be in the city because of that--our kind needs to learn to adapt, or we're going to become extinct. This is an experiment, as far as the Queens are concerned, and if we fail, they'll write us off. We don't have a lot of support over here. If we fail, the Fae stay withdrawn in their forests until there aren't any left. And that _will_ happen. I'm doing what I have to to survive. The people here...they're my friends, not my subjects. They're here because they believe in what I want to do, and because they're loyal to me, and some of them, because they have nowhere else to go."

"And you want me to be a part of that?" Blaine asks, and he knows Kurt can hear the hook on it. Kurt smiles anyway.

"I'd love for you to be a part of that," Kurt says. "I like you, Blaine. And you're one of us. You can't tell me you don't feel more at home here than you ever have."

And it's true.

"Kurt?"

Kurt turns, and there's a smiling blonde man peeking through the side door the boys left through earlier.

"I'm a little busy right now," Kurt says, his tone dangerously light. "Can it wait?"

"Oh!" The man looks between Kurt and Blaine, and then smiles awkwardly. "Sorry. Erm. Just. The boys are going to perform now, and they want you to watch the new routine."

"Oh! Of course," Kurt says. "Go ahead and open the curtain." When the man leaves, Kurt turns back to Blaine with a little embarrassed shrug. "I don't usually keep the curtain closed, actually, but I was...in a private meeting, earlier." Blaine's heart sinks a little bit at the implication of that--just how casual is sex for these people?--but Kurt beckons him. "Come on, move that stool over here. Watch with me."

Blaine does as he's told, and the proximity to Kurt, sitting by his side, Kurt's thigh near Blaine's arm, his calf just brushing Blaine's thigh--it's distracting, certainly. It makes Blaine feel like that side of his body is filling with heat, tingling and uncertain about whether or not he should move closer or further away, so he sits still and stiff as the bar is revealed and the lights are dimmed, a spotlight appearing on the stage.

There are four boys on the stage, and five chairs. They're all dressed in various tight little outfits, waiting, posed and exposed. Blaine waits, and then music rises up and a sultry voice fills the room as a dark, exotic-looking woman enters the stage and starts a dance that the boys follow.

"That's Santana," Kurt whispers, leaning over. "She's a succubus. But don't worry--she's firmly interested in her own kind."

"Succubi?"

Kurt laughs quietly. "Women."

Blaine nods, and stares at the stage as Santana sits and crosses her legs, smiling at the crowd as she continues singing, and the boys continue to dance on their chairs around her, sinuous and sensual.

"You were jealous."

Blaine startles. Kurt's mouth is brushing his ear, and his heart flutters as he realizes how close Kurt is.

"What?"

"You were jealous," Kurt repeats. "When I told you I had a private meeting with those boys. You know what I meant. You know I was going to sleep with them."

Again, Blaine's heart sinks. He likes Kurt, finds him attractive, and knowing that he doesn't have the kind of chance he'd want to take with someone like that is disappointing. He's definitely a romantic--and he might be Fae, but he didn't grow up in their culture, he doesn't understand it. He wants one person.

"I can still hear you, you know," Kurt continues. "You don't understand. Just because we're free with our bodies doesn't mean we don't freely give it to one. I told you--we mate. We mate for life."

Blaine gasps. Kurt's hand is holding his own, on his knee, and Kurt's forehead is pressed to his temple.

"I don't think you came here by accident, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine isn't even paying attention to the stage anymore. He's looking at it, but nothing gets through to him. Everything focuses on Kurt beside him.

"I--I think so, too," he says. And it's true. But he's not interested in being one of a long string of men for Kurt. He's not interested in being a notch on a bedpost. "I'm going to go to bed. Can...can someone teach me to control myself, tomorrow?"

Kurt pulls back. The distance is clear in Blaine's tone, and Blaine sighs with relief when Kurt doesn't press him, still wondering if Kurt had been exerting control over him, trying to influence Blaine into his bed. When he looks over at Kurt, though, Kurt's face is blank, cold, giving nothing away.

"Of course. You can tell Elliot that you're staying. He'll find you a place to sleep. I'll try to find you someone...suitable, to teach you to control your power, and to answer anymore questions you might have."

It's a dismissal. Blaine almost scoffs. Kurt's obviously used to getting what he wants. He's spoiled.

But the moment Blaine thinks that, he thinks he sees Kurt's jaw clenching, his face turned away, his eyes hidden.

_Oh. He can hear me._

"Yes. You can go now."

Blaine stumbles away, part of him ashamed at himself for being judgmental and perhaps hurting Kurt's feelings. But he knows what he wants, and being with someone who treats sex like it's free range isn't it.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine says, looking up and seeing Elliot leaning against the side of the bar. "Um...Kurt said there could be a room for me?"

Elliot smiles. "So you're staying?"

"Yeah," Blaine says. "I mean...at least for a little while. I haven't decided if I'm giving up my old life yet."

"Hey, you don't have to," Elliot says, guiding him back through the kitchen and up the stairs. "Why not have the best of both worlds?"

"I guess," Blaine replies, feeling increasingly numb as he moves up the stairs and down to the end of the hall, past Elliot's apartment, past plenty of other doors, to the last door on the left before the final one at the very end of the hall, which doesn't have a handle.

"What's through there?"

"Oh, who knows," Elliot says, sounding a little too innocent. "But anyway. Here you go. Make yourself at home. Use whatever water and electricity you want--we aren't paying for it."

Blaine nods. He feels absolutely disconnected--perhaps it was something in his drinks? He feels overwrought, and it's little wonder. He's learned a lot today, and it still feels surreal. Dream-like.

"What's wrong?" Elliot asks, and Blaine turns, surprised. "Can't you hear my thoughts?"

Elliot eyes him. "No. Not since you started drinking regular vodka."

That makes Blaine laugh out of shock. "That was regular vodka?"

"Well, home distilled, but yeah," Elliot says. "No mana."

"But--huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," Blaine says. "I think I'm just confused."

Elliot laughs. "Or drunk. Sleep it off, Romeo."

"Thanks, I think that's a good idea. Goodnight."

Elliot leaves him to what is apparently his new apartment, for as long as he wants it. It's a lot like Elliot's down the hall--a big living area with just a little half wall between it and the kitchen, and a door into the bedroom, which leads into the bathroom. All in that same almost-run-down fashion, only one wall of windows running along the outer wall through kitchen, living room, and bedroom, though--he's not on the corner. Something's behind that door in the hall.

He lets it go, though. He uses the bathroom, smiling at the iron claw foot tub and wondering how nice a bath would be, but he stumbles to the simple but comfortable and clean bed, wondering if he is drunk--he doesn't feel like it. He didn't have much of the vodka, and the Fae drinks were a while ago, now. Either way, it's late and easy to relax, and as he drifts off, he lets himself think about what he didn't say out loud to Elliot.

If he'd stopped projecting, how could Kurt still hear his thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine wakes from a deeply restful night's sleep to someone in his room.

"Good morning."

He bolts up in bed, and there's Kurt, perched delicately on the dresser next to the door, his long legs crossed, hands folded on his knees. He's smiling at Blaine equanimously.

"Uh...hi," Blaine croaks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and clearing his throat when he realizes just how disheveled he feels, inside and out.

"My apologies for barging in on you, but I thought we should talk before anyone else gets to you," Kurt says. "Rumors spread pretty quickly around here, and you'd be shocked how much they change in each telling." A wicked smirk, and then, "Most Fae can't resist a little embellishment when telling a story."

"So you lie?" Blaine asked, halfway between amused and worried about this tidbit.

"Oh, of course not," Kurt says, something playful in every line of his body, from his raised eyebrows to his bouncing foot. "You won't find a more honest group of people. Fae don't lie like humans do. But that doesn't mean we can't...decorate the truth a little bit. And just because someone interpreted the truth a little differently than intended doesn't mean they're lying when they pass on false information."

"That sounds...complicated."

"Oh, it is." Kurt winks. "You'll get used to it."

"I went to a performing arts school, I think I'll manage," Blaine says wryly.

"Went?"

Blaine blinks rapidly, shaking his head. "Go. I...I go to a performing arts school."

Kurt's smile tells Blaine he believes otherwise, but neither of them comment on it.

"So...what do you want to talk to me about?"

Kurt shifts on his seat, biting the inside of his cheek. "It seems that your powers don't work unless you're receiving mana. The mana activates it and strengthens it. However...what things seem and what they are can be very different."

"...Without the riddle this time?"

Kurt gives him a half-hearted glare. "Your powers work all the time. The projecting. The...the influence. You are evidently capable of putting thoughts in other people's minds, quite literally. And while your powers slip out of your control when you take in mana, they are still present when your magic seems dormant. You don't need the mana. The mana...removes the barriers."

"Okay. So what does that mean?"

"It means that you're always projecting," Kurt explains. "Your thoughts are always pushing at other people. And for whatever reason, no one can hear it--except for me."

"You could hear my thoughts when others couldn't last night."

"That's right." Kurt takes a deep breath. "So...I was hoping we could get past our awkwardness from last night, because it appears that the person most suited to teaching you control is...me."

Blaine rubs his eyes again, and slips out from under the covers, settling his feet on the floor and facing Kurt. "And...you can hear my thoughts right now? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. Surface thoughts and emotions only, but yes."

Blaine freezes. "I don't know if I'm comfortable with that."

"Well, we'd best get started, then," Kurt says. "Teaching you to put up walls so you don't utilize your powers unexpectedly is part of the deal." He hops down from his perch. "I'll let you get up, get ready and dressed. I'll have Elliot bring you some clothes from...somewhere. I'm sure you're somebody's size. When you're ready, there's food downstairs."

Kurt smiles, and then hops down and steps into Blaine's space. Blaine stands, suddenly very aware of his morning breath. Kurt doesn't seem to notice.

"You underestimate yourself, you know," Kurt says thoughtfully. "In many, many ways." He leans forward and kisses Blaine's forehead very, very gently before pulling back and staring Blaine down heatedly. "I'll see you downstairs."

Blaine's left tingling from the soft little point on his forehead where the imprint of Kurt's lips still echoes, left staring at the bedroom door closing with a quiet _click_.

\--

Blaine skips the bath he's tempted to take in favor of a quicker shower. The water is wonderfully warm, and it would be easy to let himself stay there, pounded by the hot water tapping over his muscles, working out every tension. But he feels a draw--it's as though the kiss Kurt gave him left an invisible string, right from the center of his forehead, and the further Kurt walked away, the harder it tugged. It was stretched beyond comfort, singing with the need to snap back into the shape it started, with Kurt's lips against Blaine's skin.

He's not going to have sex with Kurt when it would mean nothing. But he can enjoy his presence. Kurt makes him feel wanted, desirable, interesting. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? Kurt seems perfectly happy to provide those feelings, this morning, seemingly beyond the hurt of Blaine's harsher thoughts the night before.

He can be friends with Kurt. Hell, he can flirt with Kurt if he wants. There's nothing wrong with being friendly, with indulging in some mutual attraction, if the intent to go further has already been broadcast as not happening. They're going to be spending time together--it can be a pleasant experience.

Though...he should apologize. He judged Kurt unfairly last night, without knowing him, without knowing his culture, and as good as spoke unfeelingly against him. That was rude, and Kurt will have an apology before they get down to it.

As Blaine's drying off, Elliot calls out from behind the door.

"There are clothes on the sink, if you missed them. Hurry up, I'm hungry!"

The bathroom is completely stocked, and Blaine gathers up toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and considers shaving as he roots around for some hair product. "Um...I might be a little bit..."

"Come on, just do the bare basics. No one's going to care if you look like you spent the night, they all look like they're dying, I'm sure."

Blaine frowns. "I'll just be a minute."

His ablutions cut short, he feels self-conscious when he steps out, dressed in a tight, short-sleeved v-neck t-shirt and skinny jeans that he had to roll up from being far too long. Elliot eyes him and whistles.

"The scruffy heartthrob look suits you better than the slick grandpa look," he says teasingly.

"I like my grandpa look," Blaine says. "This is...new."

Elliot laughs. "Embrace your inner stud. I want to see Kurt drooling on himself." Blaine turns his gasp into a cough. Elliot smirks. "Word is you turned him down. You are a stronger man than I."

"You and Kurt?"

"Once," Elliot says, shrugging. "Look, I came from the human world, too. Sex can be a big deal there. Here, it's just...not. Not unless it's with a mate. It's just another kind of social interaction."

"I'm...not like that," Blaine says. "I don't mind if anyone else does it. But...I won't."

It's not him. It never has been.

Elliot whistles. "Who burned you?"

"Nobody," Blaine says, heading for the door. "Weren't you hungry?"

\--

Blaine enters the bar, smelling fresh bread and coffee, and almost walks directly into a tiny whirlwind of artfully shredded brown fabric, corsetry, and wild hair.

"I have worked hard to get myself where I am." Blaine blinks down at a pretty girl in steampunk style, her eyes narrowed up at him. "I don't want any pretty boy crooners coming in here and trying to oust me from my spot. Are we clear?"

"Cool it, Tina," Elliot says, appearing with two huge mugs of coffee, setting one next to Blaine on the bar. "You earned your spot. You know Kurt doesn't give that to just anyone, not even his conquests."

"Conquest?" Blaine protests.

"It'll happen eventually," Elliot says simply.

"Doesn't have to," Tina says. She smiles up at Blaine. "As long as you don't think you're going to take my hard work for yourself, we're fine. More than fine."

Elliot snorts. "Down girl."

Kurt throws an arm around Tina's shoulders. "You look fabulous today, as always. Ready to eat the men of New York?"

"As long as you haven't eaten them already, I'm game," Tina says. She grins at Blaine. "Don't let him push you. You can do better."

"Ouch!" Kurt cries, and Tina laughs and slaps his ass as she twirls away. "Go start your shift, Tina."

"I'll be back later." She blows them a kiss and then it's just Kurt facing Blaine, arms crossed, nodding approvingly.

"I like the threads," he says musingly. "I liked your old ones better, though."

"Ew."

"Shut up, Elliot."

Blaine grabs his coffee, and Kurt nods to a table with Santana, the performing succubus from the night before, sitting with her feet up on the table, sipping her own coffee and looking like she got zero sleep.

"Awww, no victims?" Elliot asks. Santana flicks up her middle finger and doesn't even look at him. Blaine laughs with the others--as on the fence as he has been about all this, as confused and floating in some strange surreal in-between, he feels largely at home, now, with these people who are not so different from anyone else. They're lovingly snarky, familiar, comfortable together and extending that comfort to Blaine by simply including him without making a big deal of it.

Once seated, the blonde man who opened the curtain the night before appears with two trays. They're filled with beautifully fresh fruits and steaming little loaves of bread. Once it's down, he leaves.

"Thanks, Adam," Kurt calls, and then he grabs a slice of melon and digs in.

Blaine opts not to watch that and grabs some bread for himself. There are a few little dishes of warm butter, and Blaine grabs one to dip little chunks of bread in as he sips his coffee and listens to the group rib each other and talk performance schedules.

"All I'm saying is that I need lady love to survive," Santana says at one point, shrugging and chewing on a piece of bread. "Tina just needs the stroke to her ego."

"Then get your lady love from the floor," Kurt says. "Maybe you can do better if you're actually talking to some ladies instead of dancing with a bunch of guys."

"You're just pandering to that little blabber-mouth because you wanted her to shut up."

"She waited for that spot, Santana. Rachel's gone--she took that spot. End of discussion."

"Have you choked on too much cock lately, or what?" Santana sneers. "Your brain cells are a lot lower than I remember."

"Bitter," Elliot coughs.

"Who's Rachel?" Blaine asks.

"Our star," Kurt says, with a bit of an eyeroll. "She left to star in a Broadway show and marry a teacher."

"So what are you bringing to the table, munchkin?" Santana shoots at Blaine. "If you're not putting out, good luck getting on the stage."

"We don't even know how he performs yet, Santana," Kurt says evenly. "That will be what decides a spot, if he wants one. _You_ didn't sleep with me to get your spot."

"I don't have a cock," Santana says, and then tosses a wink to Blaine. "At least not one that's attached."

"So...I think we can start training now?" Kurt suggests, and Blaine perks up.

"Sure," he says. "Um--what--"

"What you're going to need to do is imagine something very, very strongly," Kurt says, getting up and circling the table. "Imagine the inside of your head clad in a pure iron casing. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. You have to _know_ that shield is in place. You have to _know_ it works."

"O...kay."

Kurt stands behind Blaine with his hands on his shoulders, leaning down and whispering in his ear. "We spiked your coffee."

Oh, god. Everyone at the table can hear his thoughts.

"Do you know how last night would have gone if you'd come to my room with me?" Kurt whispers. His breath is hot in Blaine's ear, and Blaine feels himself start to sweat. "I would've taken you up, laid you out, and taken all the time in the world with you."

Oh, god. And he can imagine it. He can imagine--

"I would've undressed you bit...by...bit," Kurt continues. "Would've put my mouth _everywhere._ Would've teased you 'til you were _begging_ for it. Would've opened you up and fucked you like you deserve to be fucked--long and slow, except for when I couldn't stop myself. Then it would be _hard_ , right until you needed to come. But I'd make you wait."

Blaine whimpers and closes his eyes, furiously imagining his head lined with defenses. Fuck iron, he's got his head lined with electrically charged _titanium._

"And when I had you _sobbing_ for it," Kurt charges on, lips moving right against Blaine's ear, his fingers questing down his chest, digging little lines into the muscles of Blaine's heaving chest, "I'd finally give it to you how you wanted, finally fuck you right into the mattress, hold you down and let you come around my cock."

"Are you ever gonna stop?" Santana snaps. "I have places to be."

"I'll stop when he shields," Kurt says out loud, turning away for only a moment before he's back, and Blaine braces himself, _imagine a shield, imagine a shield, imagine a shield--_

"He _is_ shielding, you putz. Or is your cock doing the thinking for you again?"

Kurt pulls back, and brushes himself off. Blaine blinks and _breathes._ "I did it?"

"Congratulations," Elliot says. "We only got to the part about you begging before it got spotty, but I think I got something about making you wait before it cut out completely."

Kurt circles back around the table and sits back down, pulling some bread over and chewing on it without looking at Blaine.

_Why didn't you stop?_ Blaine thinks, suspicious. _Can you still hear me?_

Kurt shakes his head, just a little bit, and Blaine immediately stares down at the table, focusing on his mental shields hard. How the hell is Kurt still in, if Blaine is blocking it? Is he powerful enough to pick up what others can't? Do his powers go that far, as a Lord?

Adam comes back over and smiles down at Kurt expectantly. Blaine looks up and watches, worry gnawing at him through the determination to _succeed_ , to regain his privacy and control over himself.

"Would you mind if I took the rest of the day off?" Adam asks. "I've got a--thing--"

"Does he know you call him a thing?" Kurt asks, smirking, looking as though he's completely unaffected by whatever is going on between them. "Adam, I didn't think you were the type."

"He'd probably be thrilled if I called him a thing, and make jokes about _his_ thing," Adam says placidly. "Would you very much mind?"

"Go," Kurt says, waving him away. "Be his manic pixie dream boy. Rescue him from his doldrums. Whatever it is you're doing."

"Patching up his wounds, more like," Adam laughs. "Shall I bring him by sometime?"

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up. "That serious?"

"The most serious," Adam says with absolute certainty. "I'm certain he's my mate."

There are cheers, and Blaine feels awkwardly out of place.

"Go, go," Kurt says, grinning and laughing and jumping up to hug Adam. "Bring him when it's official."

"You'll find it," Adam says quietly, and Blaine thinks he can only hear it because he's less than two feet away. "Someday."

"Yeah, maybe," Kurt says, and he seems flippant, but the look Adam gives him before he walks away is pointed.

The table breaks up, and Kurt looks at Blaine, who keeps his seat, sensing more to come. Once everyone's cleared out, though, Kurt still doesn't speak. Blaine feels awkward again, and finds himself filling the silence.

"Not that many people here?"

Kurt snorts. "We don't all _live_ here," he says. "Most people you saw last night just visit for the safe place to be themselves. But they're out there, adapting. That's the point. The only people who live here are the performers. And most of them are still sleeping or already ate before we got down here."

Blaine nods, and finishes off his coffee. "This was good, despite...you know."

"I want to try something."

Kurt's up with a scrape of his chair, and he waves Blaine up as well.

"I want you to stand...right there," he says. "Keep your shield up as hard as you can."

Blaine does as he's told, and Kurt slowly starts walking backwards, keeping his eyes speculatively on Blaine, gradually narrowing them until he's about ten feet away.

"There," Kurt says. "Silence. Last night, before you knew how to do this, I heard you wherever you were."

Blaine flushes, and Kurt shakes his head.

"I didn't listen in," he says. "I only let myself hear you if you were next to me. I didn't have much a choice, you were throwing your voice so hard. But I was able to block you just fine. So was everyone else. We wouldn't invade your privacy if we didn't have to."

"And...and now?" Blaine asks, panicking a little bit. "If you're anywhere near me, you can still hear me."

Kurt sighs. "We can work on your shielding. Make it...stronger. Less of a struggle, more natural to you. But Blaine, you were born to wield these powers. You'll pick it up quickly. You just have to let yourself."

"But you can still hear me," Blaine insists.

Kurt throws his hands up. "I don't know, Blaine. I can teach you control. I can't tell you why. I'm not all-knowing."

"Someone around here must be." He's being a little petulant, but Blaine doesn't honestly care at this point.

Kurt shakes his head. "No. The only people who have any true powers of foresight are the Queens. Sometimes you get a clairvoyant, they can get snippets in dreams, lots of metaphors and omens, but only the Queens have the power to tell us everything. And they just don't, Blaine. Not unless it's essential. And even then, it's most likely a fucking riddle. The Queens don't deal with lesser beings."

"But you're a Lord--"

"I'm in exile, Blaine," Kurt spits. "I might have come out here on my own, but do you really think I could just waltz into the Summer court and expect to be welcomed back? I flouted our old ways. I left. I am not welcome with Titania in any way. Either I succeed out here, I survive, or I don't. In the grand scheme of things, I don't _matter._ "

Blaine blinks. He doesn't understand this world, he's so new to it and it's all confusing and strange, but-- "Of course you matter."

Kurt scoffs, but Blaine shakes his head. "No, you do. I mean...who else would've had the nerve to leave like that, go against...against tradition? Kurt, that took a lot of courage. And you're making a difference for...all these people. I mean...if you weren't here, where would I be? I'd be going to class, and work, and back to my empty apartment, miserable and never knowing why. You do matter."

Kurt's eyes are suspiciously bright, his jaw tight, but he nods. "Thank you."

Has no one ever really told Kurt this? "You're welcome."

He looks so dejected. Blaine walks over and takes Kurt's hand. As weird as being around him has been, he's hurting, and he opened his home to Blaine, gave him a place. And Blaine realizes he's made up his mind.

"Now...what's this I hear about performance spots?"

Kurt looks at him hard, and then grins wide. "You're staying?"

He sound so _happy._

"I'm staying."


	5. Chapter 5

The winter passes as though it never even happened for Blaine.

He hardly ever leaves Widdershins, after he closes up his human life for good. He drops out of school, leaves his apartment, moves his things into his place in Kurt's haven. With a stilted, painful call to his parents, he reveals that he knows his origins--something they'd almost disbelieved, until they revealed that his mother had wept to know that she was incapable of further children after Cooper, and her prayers for more had gone unanswered until a night out with some girls from their social group, during which one of them approached and got the story out of her. A month later, an unsigned birth certificate had shown up with a tiny little Blaine, and they'd taken him in as their own and never found out more until Blaine called from the bench down the block from where Kurt waited for him.

With that task completed, Blaine spends most of his time making a place for himself in the little Fae world that revolves around Kurt. He is trained, and learns control. Gone are the days that all could access his thoughts--instead, he has a firm lock on his mind, and only the thinnest tendrils escape him, and even then, only Kurt seems to be able to still hear him.

Not that Blaine doesn't put thoughts out there on purpose. There's nothing quite like being able to give a private message in front of everyone. Especially when it's to Kurt, and especially when it can fluster him.

They're good friends, now. They are...unusual friends. The line between friendship and romance would only be crossed by sex, and they haven't done that. They haven't even kissed. But they flirt, and touch, and spend hours together. Their connection is strong. But Blaine can never take the next step--first of all, he still can't let himself be just a conquest for Kurt. And second, Kurt has come to mean so much to him. He can't ruin that by complicating it.

Not that anyone would believe it to be _un_ complicated.

In fact, the rumor is that they're secret lovers. Why they would keep it a secret, Blaine isn't sure--the Fae culture is absolutely free of a paradigm of sexual shame, and secrecy is often non-existent. But the one time Tina hints at what the rumor is really about, it almost causes a fight.

"Oh please, just go do your set," she says one night. "We all know you worked _so_ hard for it."

With a pointed and not at all subtle glare at Kurt, she flounces off, and before Blaine can convince himself that Kurt gave him the spot for his talent, he's on stage, and staring at Kurt across the bar, as he realizes he's done every single night he's crooned to the audience, letting subtle images thread from his mind into his words and into his audience.

When he gets off stage, he knows he fucked up.

"What happened?" Kurt asks, coming into his apartment as he's getting ready for a bath. Without knocking. Like he always does.

"You know, maybe if you knocked like a normal person, people wouldn't think I fucked my way into my spot," Blaine snaps, temper gone, patience gone, feeling hurt that people think it, and worse, that Kurt might've only given him the spot to gain favor.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know what they think," Blaine shouts, tossing off his shirt and not caring one whit about Kurt watching him from less than ten feet away.

"What does it matter what they think?" Kurt asks, obviously annoyed. "You know you earned that spot--" "With what?" Blaine asks, shucking off his pants and peeking back over his shoulder at his back, naked all the way down. "This?"

He climbs into the bath--fuck that Kurt is watching him, watching him way too closely--and Blaine can practically hear Kurt warring between a lusty joke and an exasperated screech. So he gives him a little hint--he lets Kurt hear the thoughts that are plaguing him.

_Did you just give me the spot to try to get me into bed?_

Kurt walks into the bathroom and sits down on the toilet, smiling sadly at Blaine, who's reclined himself back and crossed his arms in the warm water. "Blaine, I gave you the spot because...you're amazing, Blaine. Your solos are breathtaking. The others are jealous of that, and of our friendship. They're worried it will affect how the shows are run. But it doesn't--the only thing that makes a decision is the talent of the performer. You're really good, Blaine. And you've made it perfectly clear that you won't come to my bed or allow me into yours. I would never try to change your mind with bribery."

"Just with flirting."

"Like you don't?" Kurt shoots back, smirking. "I'm not sure if we're both pots or kettles at this point."

"I just...I like you, Kurt. But I'm not like you."

"I get the feeling you're calling me a slut," Kurt says frankly. Blaine flushes, and Kurt shrugs. "If that's what I am, so be it. But I've never been anything but clear about what I'm looking for. I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

"And what is that? What exactly are you looking for? Because it looks like you're just looking for interchangeable bed warmers."

"I don't see the harm in enjoying myself with someone else if we're both safe and consenting," Kurt says. "And sometimes...that's the best way to connect. To find what I'm really looking for. But I'm not _waiting_ for it Blaine. It might never come."

"What's that?"

"My mate," Kurt says. "I want to find someone who means everything to me. I want to find someone I connect with on a deeper level than the rest of the world. Some people, their souls just...look for each other. I'm not going to pretend I'm not lonely while I'm searching, and I'm not going to pretend that I will be successful--I might not. So am I supposed to wait in loneliness for thousands of years?"

That makes Blaine pay attention. "Thousands?"

Kurt just smiles. "Fae. Magic."

"I just...I understand what you want, Kurt," Blaine says. "And that's amazing that you still believe that it could happen. But...I'm not you. I can't just be with someone and not have it mean anything. It _does_ mean something to me. I don't want to just be a temporary fix for your loneliness. I want to matter to the people I sleep with."

"Have you mattered to your past lovers?"

"What past lovers?" Blaine mutters. Kurt's eyebrows shoot up, and Blaine shrugs, a little embarrassed. "Look, I tried. I just...I can't. Whenever I thought I could do it, I just felt...empty. Like there was someone out there I was hurting, and I just didn't know who. I felt hollow and terrible and...I could never go through with it. I want to wait. I want it to be...everything I've ever imagined it to be."

"How will you know?" Kurt asks, and it's not pressure or mockery. He is genuinely asking, gaze curious. "Everyone says you just _know_ , but how? How do I know that the connection I feel for you isn't what we're both looking for?"

Blaine sinks back and looks away. "I don't know."

\--

That conversation haunts him. How will he know? How does he know that the draw he feels for Kurt is just simple attraction? He didn't feel like this with the guys in high school and college that he went on dates with. He didn't feel anything _like_ this. And he thought it would be like lightning--unmistakable, huge, bright and loud. He thought love would be a storm.

But what if his soulmate is just...a howling wind? Just a scratch of a tree branch on his window. What if it's this niggling thing in the back of his mind that he's been trying to block out, that keeps him awake and convinces him there are monsters in the shadows when it's just the wind?

Is he missing out on something because he's told himself that Kurt will discard him? He...he never even asked Kurt if that's all he wanted. He just...assumed.

On the third night after their conversation, after two whole days of avoiding Kurt and pretty much everyone else as well, Blaine lies in bed, staring at the pattern of light the streetlamps shine through his multicolored floor-to-ceiling windows. Can't he...at least try?

Kurt obviously wouldn't mind. If--if he wants to test it out. Just to see if he can make that connection that was missing during all his other attempts. Kurt would probably get right down to work if Blaine asked, and no regrets about it.

So he can ask. He can try. Why not see?

\--

That night, he gets on stage. He sits on his stool, and he stares out across the barroom at Kurt seated on his little throne. He's not surrounded, not attended, no boys hanging off his chair. It's just him, dressed in his same sharp style, his eyes locked on Blaine over the heads of the crowd.

And instead of threading his words with suggestions for the audience, he only sends out one message, one little image, directed at one person alone.

_Kiss me._

When he finishes his set, Kurt is still in his seat, eyes hard on Blaine as he slips from the stage and off to the side, heading to the bar and nodding at Dani tending it for a drink. He gets his usual, a drink called Ategenos, which tastes like pomegranate and lemon and leaves it burning on his tongue as he tosses it back.

When he sets his glass down, he feels the now unmistakable tingle of mana building up inside him, and then the wholly unfamiliar sensation of something turning his face against his will.

It's as though someone invisible is grasping his chin and forcing him to look at Kurt, who is staring back and disappearing behind his drawing curtain. Once he's out of sight, the force dies, and Blaine almost stumbles back with the feeling of being released.

Had Kurt just controlled him?

He marches over to the curtain and waits--he knows Kurt can sense him out here. He doesn't wait long--just a few seconds and the curtain flickers, signalling it's possible to pass through, that Kurt isn't keeping it rock hard like he usually does, controlling the living mana that is threaded into it.

"Did you just make me look at you--"

As soon as he's through the curtain, he's pushed back against it, and it's hard. Kurt is pressed up against him, close enough to be looking almost right down at him, his hands on Blaine's biceps.

"What are you doing, Blaine?" Kurt asks. "You already made it perfectly fucking clear you don't want me. I can take the flirting, I can take the touches, I can take all of the shit that makes everyone think we're together. I can take that, and keep my distance. But if you want me to kiss you, I can't oblige knowing that that's all you want. That wouldn't be fair to me, Blaine."

Blaine feels himself trembling, and he drops his eyes in shame.

"I--I just--I can't stand not knowing," he says, and Kurt pulls back, rubbing a hand down over his face. "Kurt, what if you were right? What if we are...meant for each other, and we just don't know?"

"Blaine, don't play with me--"

"I'm not trying to!" he cries. "Kurt, just listen--and I promise I'll listen, too, because I haven't until now. If...if we did this. Would it just be a one time thing? Even if we're not mates and we'd just be...settling. Would...would I have to wake up the next morning knowing that it meant nothing?"

Kurt stares hard at him, and then clenches his jaw tight. "Settling? For _you_?"

Blaine throws his hands out and feels his eyes watering. Why can't this just be _easy_ when everything he's felt has been so _hard._ "Blaine Anderson, you fucking idiot--"

Kurt strides forward and takes Blaine's face between his hands and pulls him up into a heated kiss. Blaine's ready for it, lips parted, arms already pulling Kurt in close--he's ready to feel this, ready to feel Kurt and know one way or another.

And he finds, as their lips slot into place, as their panting breath mingles, as Kurt groans at the touch of Blaine's tongue, that he doesn't have a single fucking clue. He just knows that Kurt tastes like Blaine always wanted kisses to taste. He smells like citrus and pepper. He's lean and strong under Blaine's hands, practically holding Blaine up because Blaine feels so limp in his arms, so completely ready to melt into Kurt because he's so _warm_ \-- 

"Kurt?"

Kurt ignores the call, and shoves his tongue into Blaine's mouth. Blaine whimpers, and he's trembling, Kurt's barely holding him together--

"Kurt! It's important, open up!"

"Goddamnit," Kurt hisses, pulling his lips away but leaning his forehead against Blaine's, struggling for breath. "What is it?" he calls.

"Let me in!"

Kurt steps back from Blaine, straightens himself out, and waves a hand at the curtain. It goes limp and Elliot storms through.

"Jesus Christ, Kurt, what the hell--"

"What on earth was so important you had to barge in here?" Kurt demands.

Elliot looks between them, his face falling, and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, but you have to know this. We just got a call in from Brazil."

"Okay?" Kurt says. "What about Brazil, Elliot?"

"The Winter Lord. David," Elliot says. Blaine can see the breath freezing in Kurt's chest. "The--the locals found out he was...not like them."

"Elliot, what--"

"He's dead, Kurt. They killed him. And every single Fae they found with him. They know."


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt doesn't come out of his room for four days.

The bar runs without him. Elliot and Adam and Santana take over, with input from Tina when she's not at her other job (Blaine doesn't know what it is yet, but he's pretty sure she's a Mistress at a BDSM dungeon somewhere on the upper east side). Blaine helps out as much as he can--he learns some bartending, the particular mixology their drinks require, and he helps out in the kitchen when no one has time to pay attention to things like eating for themselves. He doesn't have the power yet to be able to help with the enchantments that Kurt normally keeps up--the glamour to hide the building, which is astoundingly complex, and the flow of mana through the entire block, which Kurt normally draws up from the earth itself and keeps in motion as a sort of forced ley point that draws in Fae who can sense it--free advertising, Elliot calls it, when Blaine asks. But Kurt's really the only one with the power to do all this, so it's a lot of combining strengths and rituals that Blaine doesn't understand, spells and potions and herbs burning and it all seems like something he saw in a head shop Cooper took him to once when he was trying to be cool.

Mostly, Blaine stays out of the way and does the jobs he's capable of. He's not much good for anything else.

"Do you think you could go knock on his door?" Elliot asks on the third night. "He might open for you."

Blaine doesn't bother questioning the implications of that. He just goes to the private staircase to Kurt's apartment (on the third floor, and apparently huge) that's in a room off to the side of Kurt's quasi-throne room and goes up the steps for the first time.

Halfway up, he notes that there's a door without a handle. He's pretty sure it's the door next to the one to his own apartment.

At the top of the stairs, there's a set of double doors, and Blaine takes the old fashioned knocker on one of them and bangs it hard.

"Kurt?" he calls. "Um...I'm sorry to...bother you, but Elliot sent me up to see if I could...convince you to talk? Tell us you’re alive, at least?"

There's no answer. And half an hour later, when Blaine sits on the steps and sends all the mental messages out that he can. Finally, an hour after he went up, he gives up and goes back down the stairs, feeling incredibly lonely for the first time since he got here.

\--

Just after closing on the fourth night, Kurt appears in the bar. He holds up a hand when several people start talking at once, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry I was...missing in action," he says. "But...this has gone beyond what I can decide on my own. I know the world hasn't gotten wind of what really happened in Brazil, they still think it was a religious thing, but...there's always a chance that someone will talk, and that someone will believe them."

He takes a deep breath, and looks around at them with a tired look on his face. Blaine wishes he could kiss him.

"I'm going to call on the Queens," Kurt announces, and there's a collective gasp. "I've been gathering myself to do the spell, waiting for the Equinox for its power, and that's why I left you for so long. I need that power, and I need their approval before I...take the next step.

"And you all have to decide if you're going to take that step with me," Kurt continues, looking around at them closely. "We could give up now--any one of you who wants to leave and take their chances, now is the time. But I'm calling the Queens to ask for their approval in moving us out of the shadows."

"What do you mean, Kurt?" Tina asks cautiously.

"I mean that sooner or later, what happened in Brazil is going to happen to us," Kurt says. "Someone's going to find out where we are, or get suspicious, and there's only so much our magic can do against humans if we're so determined to keep hidden. And I'm not going to sit here and wait to be slaughtered.

"I'm going to open Widdershins to the human world," Kurt finally says. "I'm going to let them in with open arms. It won't be simple, and it won't be easy, especially because I have no plans to broadcast what we are. We'll have to be careful, and there are going to be a lot of politics involved. I hope that's a draw for most of you," he adds with a smirk. "Because I'm going to need every bit of help that I can get to pull this off. It's going to be risky, so if you want to go...I won't stop you, and I won't blame you. You'll be welcome back anytime you decide you want to come back. But I don't know when it will be safe."

Every single one of them stands their ground. Not one person makes a move toward the door--not one of them looks. Within a minute, Kurt is sniffling and wiping his eyes around a laugh.

"You stubborn assholes," he says fondly, and then they're surging forward, and Kurt is wrapped in group hug the likes of which Blaine would never have believed these people capable of--it's loving, and unashamed, and sincere. And not one of them has cracked a joke about a misplaced hand or whose ass that is.

Finally, Kurt breaks apart, and smiles around at all of them. "Thank you."

"Like we'd miss this," Adam says. "If you pull this off, and we can't take any credit? Can you imagine?"

Blaine laughs with them, and notices Kurt staring at him.

"I'm going to call the Queens," he says. "Everyone...take the night off. This is going to feel weird."

Blaine stays where he is while the rest disperse and head upstairs, keeping eye contact with Kurt, who stares right back. When the last person is gone, he walks up to Blaine, smiling almost shyly.

"I heard you last night," he says. "It was very tempting to open the door. But I couldn't."

"I understand," Blaine says. "But I won't lie...I missed you."

"I know," Kurt whispers, just inches from Blaine, reaching up to brush a curl over Blaine's ear. "You weren't being particularly picky about what you let me hear."

Blaine stills. "Yes I was. I was...shielding, the whole time. Hard. Except for asking you to come out."

Kurt freezes as well, staring at him hard. "We'll have to talk about this after, but...either I'm a lot more powerful than even I thought I was, or we've been monumentally stupid."

"Either one is a possibility," Blaine says quietly, but there's very little doubt left in him.

Kurt hisses in a breath and leans in to rest his forehead against Blaine's. "After I finish this, we're going to find out for sure. If...if you haven't changed your mind."

"Talk to the Queens first," Blaine says. "Then we'll talk. And then..."

"And then?"

Blaine kisses him softly. "And then you answer my question from the other night."

Kurt smiles and lets Blaine take his hand. "I have a strong suspicion that it'll be a moot point," he says. "But I don't care how...legitimate our connection is. I don't care if it's an accident, or if you're my soulmate. I don't need that to want to be with you."

"But...would you be waiting?" Blaine asks, his voice wavering.

"I've already been waiting," Kurt says with a laugh. "For you. Ever since I saw you, I've...I haven't needed anything else. That should've been sign enough for me. And I want to _show_ you want I mean."

He kisses Blaine, and squeezes his hand, which is trembling with the possibility, the _promise._ "But for now," Kurt says. "I have to make a call. And I'd appreciate it...if you'd stay with me when I did it."

Blaine looks up at him, and realizes that he's afraid. He pulls Kurt into a tight embrace, and kisses his neck.

"I'll be right there with you."


	7. Chapter 7

The first room in Kurt's apartment is huge, the center of it filled with a gigantic square table. It's covered with old books and ancient papers, bowls full of strange materials, and in the center, a single wide candle, a lavender color that almost borders on grey. In front of it is a drinking horn, carefully set in a little stand to keep it upright, filled to the brim with a murky-looking drink. Kurt approaches it all and takes a deep breath.

"This is it," he says. "The spell's...ready. All I have to do is cast it."

"How long has it been since you...had contact. With the rest of our world?"

Kurt smiles when Blaine says _our_. He turns and offers the smile to Blaine entirely, saying, "Almost three hundred years."

Blaine coughs, his breath catching uncomfortably in his throat with surprise. "Um. How old are you?"

Kurt's eyes glitter. "Old for you. Young in the grand scheme. Now stop embarrassing me, I have to focus."

"Do you want me to just...back off?" Blaine asks. Kurt shakes his head. "Please stand next to me. I--I feel like my power is easier to access with you nearby. Like I can breathe right." Blaine feels his face splitting into a wide grin, and he takes Kurt's proffered hand for a moment before Kurt pulls it back. "Okay. It's time. Just...stay there, and try not to panic. You'll be able to feel the spell."

"Okay." It makes Blaine nervous, but he wants to be here.

Kurt takes the drinking horn and, with a grimace, swallows down the liquid within, smacking his lips when it's done. "That stuff is disgusting," he whispers, and Blaine bites his lip to hold back the laugh. He doesn't want to distract Kurt any more than he thinks his presence already might be.

Suddenly, he feels tingling all over him, like the air in the room suddenly became charged. Kurt's-- _fuzzy_ , like the edges of him have blurred, and Blaine blinks a few times to try to get him in focus. It doesn't work--Kurt's...not entirely _here_ , but as he starts to circle the table counter-clockwise, the impression lessens, and he starts to...to _solidify._ Kurt was right. This feels strange.

At the first corner of the table, Kurt holds his hand over one of the bowls. It's filled with gritty red dirt, and before Blaine's eyes, it collapses in the center, swirling, as though a sinkhole suddenly opened inside it. But it doesn't swallow any more of the earth in the bowl--it just swirls, as though infinitely caught in the moment it started funneling down.

The second bowl contains a fine white dust, and Kurt's hand over it causes it to swirl up like a tornado, spinning waveringly, and Blaine smells ozone, sharp and metallic. It echoes in his chest, and he starts to feel like he's somewhere high, precariously balanced as vertigo starts to take hold.

"I'm right here, Blaine," Kurt says, his voice weirdly loud. "You aren't going to fall."

Blaine takes a deep breath and nods, and Kurt moves to the next bowl, where he lights a bright flame on a little pyre of gnarly sticks. The whole room warms, but Kurt just walks to the last one, and Blaine realizes he's chanting under his breath.

The language is unfamiliar, something lilting and garbled at the same time, the sounds clotting in Kurt's throat before flowing out seamlessly, thick and strange and piercing Blaine as though bypassing his ears and going straight to the center of his body, rather than his head.

"Be calm," Kurt says, and then resumes his chanting, hand over the final bowl, which is filled with simple water. Under his power, it spouts up a little geyser in its center, like a fountain, spraying up water that splashes back down with a tiny rushing sound.

"Hold my hand?" Kurt requests, standing back before the table, next to Blaine. Blaine takes it, and Kurt smiles, eyes focused on the candle. "Thank you. Please...don't panic if you start to feel dizzy, or like you're moving. I promise I have you here, and I won't let you go."

"Okay," Blaine whispers, and Kurt reaches out his free hand over the candle, and then the whole room starts to vibrate.

Clattering, shaking--paintings on the wall, knick knacks on side tables, chairs, lamps. Everything quivering as Kurt gathers his power, pulling something from Blaine, like he's draining blood without a single cut or opening in Blaine's veins. Blaine breathes, focusing on it, as he starts to feel faint--he trusts Kurt to keep him here. Kurt won't let him get hurt.

The little magics in the bowls start to grow, rising, and as Blaine watches, something--not quite there starts to coalesce. It's hard to put into words--it's as though Blaine can _see_ the force of them, the energy, something wavering and pale in the air from the bowls to the candle, and when it gathers over the wick, it suddenly bursts into a spectral-looking flame, white and smoky and flickering.

Kurt speaks one string of words, "Tir. Nan. Og."

And then, everything snaps.

Blaine opens his eyes from his instinctual flinch, and there's a--a _window_ hovering over the candle. Like a rift opened up in the air, ragged on the edges, and behind it, another world entirely.

It's all white, like it's lost in mist, but for two stone chairs around a stone table, rough hewn, occupied by two women.

They're beautiful beyond anything Blaine has ever seen. And they're almost identical in features, but for their coloring. Wide, alienesque eyes, slender noses, tiny but plump lips, pointed ears. The woman on the left is clad in pale green, closely clinging fabric, soft over her lively, golden-pink skin. Her hair is strawberry blonde, shining pale streaks through it, wildly curling over her shoulders. She smiles knowingly at them.

"Titania," Kurt says, bowing his head to the Summer Queen. _His_ Queen. And then he turns to the other.

Deathly pale, pin-straight black hair, dark makeup and deep blue clothing. Her eyes are cold, even as she smiles at them--she looks like a stunningly beautiful corpse, come to life and ready to strike frost into their hearts.

"Mab." Kurt greets her with bowed head as well, and Blaine copies him, keeping his eyes low.

"It's been a long time, I assume," Titania says, laughter in her voice. "You look different. More powerful."

"Thank you," Kurt says. "It's been three centuries."

"Not so long," Titania muses. "What brings you to call us, my Lord?"

"I assume you know of the Winter Lord's demise?"

"I am aware," Mab says. Blaine feels unsettled by her--she shows no concern for the loss of one of her subjects. She seems...cruel.

"I call to report my intentions to avoid the same fate," Kurt says, and both Queens focus on him entirely. He stands tall beneath their scrutiny.

"You've plans of which I might not approve," Titania says. "You wouldn't bother to ask permission unless it contained true risk for all of us. What are you doing, Kurt?"

She sounds like a scolding mother, but Kurt doesn't seem to notice or care.

"I wish to inform you that I will be welcoming humans into my...establishment," Kurt announces. "I do not plan to reveal our true nature, but there is risk of revelation."

"You would endanger our entire world to save your little brothel?" Mab asks. She seems amused by the notion. "Bold."

"It's not just for my business," Kurt says. "Fae all over this world are in hiding. And we are dying out. I do not intend to sit idly by and watch us fade into nothingness. I believe we are entirely capable of adapting as this world changes beyond our control."

"What care we for those who choose to live beyond our realm?" Mab narrows her eyes at him. "Control and power--there is none there. Chaos, like the darkness around stars."

"They won't stop with this world," Kurt warns. "It takes one to defect and reveal us."

"You threaten us."

"I warn you," Kurt replies, firm as Mab tilts her head at him, and Titania watches solemnly. "Our secrets cannot be kept. When your subjects fall, you lose your power, your control. And if the humans find a way to reach you where you are, if they learn from an errant Fae or a wizard with a grudge, they will find you and they will destroy you. They will destroy us all--it is their most natural function.

"But they have another, and that's curiosity," Kurt continues. "If I open my doors and welcome them in, they will open themselves to my power, and by extension yours. They will learn to accept us, in time, and when we are finally unable to hide, they will welcome us in return. They will want to use us--and we will be in position to make them think they can."

"I will always be convinced you are one of my kin," Mab says, grinning. "So devious."

"No, he is mine," Titania says. "Sweet, innocent Kurt, who ran away to idealize freedom. Naive, _young_ Kurt. He wishes to help us grow. He does not belong in Winter."

Mab raises an eyebrow and says nothing.

"Just a sapling," Titania hums. "Do you wish to plant yourself so firmly outside of my court, Faeling? You could end this game now. Release your ragged vagabonds and return home. Your sire still craves your return. You are old enough now to see your folly, aren't you?"

"I won't play that game Titania," Kurt says, smirking. "I know well how my father feels. He might wish for my return, but he is old enough to see that the folly is not mine."

Mab laughs raucously, but Titania glares.

"You would call us fools?" she asks, and she is suddenly as cruel as Mab has seemed this entire time. Blaine realizes he has been stupid to underestimate the Summer Queen--she might be the opposite of Mab, but they are of the same coin.

"I would," Kurt says certainly, "if you think that there is any hope in hiding away from these humans like wolves hiding from sheep."

There is a tense, quiet moment. Titania and Mab glance at each other, and then Titania nods.

"Finding your mate has certainly given you confidence," she says approvingly. "Such a handsome child."

She's looking at Blaine--they both are--and Blaine feels the panic rising until Kurt squeezes his hand.

"Th-thank you, Queen Titania," he stammers, his heart hammering in his chest.

She laughs. "So polite. You would not bring him here to learn our ways? You would not bring him home?"

Kurt hesitates, and Blaine--Blaine decides to be bold.

"I am home, my Queen," he says certainly.

Kurt turns to him, eyes wide, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"You teach him impertinance," Mab says. "So like a Summer Lord."

"My court will be intrigued by your proposal," Titania says. "Mab, I believe yours will be enraged."

"Indeed. I look forward to it."

"We will consider your plight."

The image of the two Queens flickers, and then snaps. It disappears; the candle flickers and dies, the bowls crack and shatter and spill their ingredients, inert. The room stills, and Blaine gasps and realizes just how dizzy he is.

"K-Kur-t," he croaks, and the room spins on every axis until he finds himself on the floor.

"Blaine," Kurt calls, holding Blaine's face, kneeling over him. "Blaine, stay with me. You're okay. You're just reacting to the overload of mana. With the focuses gone, it's pouring out of you--you need to shield and hold it in. Focus on my voice."

Blaine stares at Kurt, tries to imagine his shield. Tries to bring it up, tries to--to--

"I'm here. Blaine. I'm right here."

Blaine blinks, and finds himself laughing from what feels like a great distance between his mind and his body.

"Kurt," he says. "...mate."

"That's right," Kurt says softly. "And you need to stay here so we can talk about that."

"...kay."

With Kurt's hands warm and soothing on Blaine's face and his fingers stroking Blaine's temples, Blaine falls asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine wakes easily, and the moment he opens his eyes, it's to Kurt.

They're in a huge, comfortable bed, and when Blaine's mind slots together the last bits of his memory, he realizes it must be Kurt's own. They're on their sides, facing each other, and Kurt is fast asleep, limbs heavy where they're tangled with Blaine's between them. He looks so _young_ with his face totally lax, his hair sleep-wild, his mouth slightly parted.

Blaine grins. He's waking up next to Kurt. His _mate._ And he feels wonderful.

Blaine can't resist. He reaches up and gently brushes a stray lock of hair off of Kurt's forehead. At the brush of his fingertips against skin, Kurt's breath hitches, and he stirs.

"Mmmm," he groans. "Morning." He blinks open his eyes, and laughs, half-hiding his face in his pillow. "What are you grinning at?"

"Hi," Blaine says. "Don't make fun of me. I happen to be feeling very good at the moment."

Kurt hums and peeks at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You're feeling better, then?"

Blaine nods. "Much. I'd rather not go through that again, if I can help it, though."

"I'm sorry--"

"Shh." Blaine leans in and kisses Kurt quiet, a quick, sweet peck. "Don't be. That was...that was definitely an experience. I just don't know if my head can take it again. I don't even remember what happened after the spell...shut down, or whatever."

"You fainted," Kurt says, shrugging. "It was a lot, especially for you. You're still just establishing your powers, you're not used to a lot of mana flowing through you. I shouldn't have put you through that."

"I'm fine," Blaine says. "I got to...to be with you. I'm waking up here. I...I like that."

Kurt smiles and leans in for another kiss, humming happily. "I like having you here. But...can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

Kurt looks at him very seriously, and says, "Can we stop talking now?"

Blaine bites his lip and nods. There's...so much to talk about. Way too much. But Kurt is looking at him in a way that sends heat pooling down to his groin and leaves him feeling shaky and breathless and...empty, somewhere in his chest, in a way that anticipates being filled.

Kurt laughs and kisses him hard. "That's not the only thing that needs filling," he teases, murmuring against Blaine's lips.

Blaine scrunches his nose and sighs. "Can you...not be in my head right now? I just--this is embarrassing--"

"What are you ashamed of?" Kurt asks, rubbing Blaine's arms soothingly.

Blaine clears his throat, and can't find it in himself to just blurt it out. But Kurt's hearing what's in his head--he gets it.

"You're nervous for your first time," he breathes, and Blaine winces.

"A little bit. I don't want to...sound stupid, or anything, especially when we haven't...talked yet. About...some pretty big stuff." He hopes Kurt realizes he's not referring to sex stuff--not this time.

"Blaine," Kurt says, pulling him in and wrapping him up in arms and legs and kisses. "Nothing you could think or feel would be anything but beautiful." He kisses Blaine's nose. "But if you want, I'll try to...block it out. Muffle it."

When Kurt says it like that, though, and when he looks at Blaine like he wants nothing more than to stare at him forever...Blaine feels the self-consciousness drain away. _I can't wait to find out what being your mate is like._

"Soon," Kurt whispers, and then he's leaning in, and words no longer feel necessary.

He kisses Blaine like he's trying to follow a pulse--he surges in and backs away, surges back in, and Blaine follows his lead, rocking into him and gasping when he feels Kurt hard against him.

It's not the first time Blaine's felt an erection that didn't belong to him, but it's the first time he intends to go further than a brush against a hip or thigh. He intends to explore this, experience it fully, take Kurt inside himself and let Kurt take him apart and show him how it feels to be whole. His heart pounds and he can hear himself whimpering in his throat. Kurt gasps it all in and rolls Blaine onto his back gently, laying himself long and tight above Blaine, pressing a thigh in between Blaine's and dropping his mouth to Blaine's throat, sucking over the stretch of tendons that shifts as Blaine throws his head back in offering, showing Kurt exactly what he wants.

"Wanted this for so long," Kurt moans, biting on Blaine's collarbone gently. " _Dreamed_ about this."

"Kurt," Blaine whines, and it feels like it's been waiting to leave his lips like this for months. Every lonely night, every longing glance, every lingering touch, has met in this moment, fulfilled in a promise they didn't know they should be making. "Kurt, please--"

And it's then that Blaine realizes how truly convenient his powers could be, because Kurt actually _knows_ exactly what he wants.

_Oh god he'll always know just what to do--_ Kurt chuckles deep in his throat as he drops down Blaine's body, slipping beneath the blanket still covering them from their sleep, pushing Blaine's shirt up his belly and kissing over it, up and up and up until Blaine's helping him tug the thing over his head and toss it aside, Kurt's lips closing over a nipple and sucking at it as Blaine reaches down to fumble at Kurt's shirt. With only the briefest break from his teasing, Kurt takes that off as well, returning to his work when it's aside.

Blaine closes his eyes and lets himself feel. Kurt's hands are warm and soft over his sides, stroking and squeezing, and his lips are sure and firm, dragging down until he's at the waistband of Blaine's jeans, uncomfortable after sleeping in them and desperate to get them off so Kurt can soothe the lines they've dug into his skin.

As soon as they're off, Kurt does just that. He licks over the little pink ruts in Blaine's legs left from the tight seams, first over his hips, and then up the insides of his thighs. Blaine gasps and spreads them, pushing the blanket down and up so he can see what Kurt's doing, can see him reaching up to palm over the bulge in his briefs as he sucks a little mark near the crease of Blaine's groin, just outside his underwear.

There's a shuffle, and then Kurt's shoving down his own pants and underwear, kneeling up for balance, smirking up at Blaine, who's transfixed, whirling in a surreal moment where it finally hits him that _this is happening oh god it's happening right now--_

"Shh." Kurt rises up and lays himself over Blaine again, kissing him. "Relax. You're okay."

Blaine nods--he feels fine, he feels great, he's just freaking out a little bit. He finally has everything he's ever wanted, and it's all at once, even though it's been coming for a long time.

"Want me to keep going?"

"Oh my god, yes," Blaine babbles. "Don't stop now, god--"

Kurt laughs, and then Blaine's briefs are being peeled down. He holds Kurt against him and shimmies the briefs down instead of letting Kurt take them all the way off, twisting a foot up to snag in them and kick them away, clumsy and awkward, but Kurt is laughing happily and it's so contagious and Blaine's _finally_ naked and oh my god, that's a cock--

"Don't panic," Kurt whispers, shifting until he's between Blaine's legs, leaning down to kiss him, rocking them together gently.

"That's not panic," Blaine gasps. It's not. It feels like it, but it's closer to shocked desperation. Nothing feels like this, it's just--it's everything--

They lose themselves in kissing again, arms wrapping each other up tight, hands clutching at bare flesh. It's easy to just exist like that--a warm, _comfortable_ mouth moving against his, pleasure shooting through him at every press of their hips, the sweet pressure of fingers into muscles that have been aching for touch. But Blaine feels like he's going to explode, like it's all building up too fast and with not enough relief.

God, he needs some relief--needs Kurt to open him up, fingers and lubricant and warm rocking hips, and then--god, then he needs Kurt to fuck him, he _needs_ it--

And then Kurt gasps and pulls back, leaning their foreheads together, drawing up his hips, keening tightly in his throat, his face drawing in, grimacing.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asks, and Kurt laughs breathlessly.

"Blaine--Blaine, what you were imagining--you want that?"

"Yes," Blaine moans, and Kurt nods and kisses him--once, twice, hard and fast--before he rolls away and ends up at the side of the bed, surprisingly far away. Kurt's bed is _gigantic._ "Hey, come back."

Kurt laughs again, and Blaine's never heard the sound so much, not once since he and Kurt met. Kurt's easy to laugh as it is, but the joy seems to burst out of him at the slightest provocation. It stretches a smile across Blaine's face, and he's grinning silly when Kurt comes back with a condom and lubricant.

"See? Not gone that long," Kurt teases, and then he's over Blaine again, slicking a finger with lube and taking the invitation of Blaine spreading his legs and tilting his hips, ready for the slick touch. He draws a groan out of Blaine, circling and pressing at Blaine's hole, exciting nerves that have never been fired like this, have never reacted like this to anything Blaine's done himself--

"Fuck that feels good," Blaine says, and Kurt smiles, smug.

"Want more?" Kurt asks, and Blaine nods frantically until Kurt presses in and slips his finger inside, slowly but insistently pressing until Blaine just pulls him in, eager and greedy. "God, you're just--taking it--"

"I'm a virgin, not an innocent," Blaine says, rocking down onto Kurt's finger. "Don't pretend you haven't heard me sometimes when I masturbate."

"I've been very good about giving you privacy," Kurt says indignantly.

Blaine leans up and nips at his jaw. "Never slipped up? Not even once? Thought you were safe and heard me fucking myself on my dildo? Imagined it when you were up here by yourself?"

Catching Kurt off guard and being the one to take him apart a little bit is _satisfying,_ especially when Kurt pointedly does not answer, instead slipping in a second finger and latching onto Blaine's throat, just to the side of his Adam's apple, biting and sucking hard, a sharp, focused pain where the rest of him wallows in muted, building pleasure around the pressure of his fingers, three full after Blaine opens easily around two.

"Come on," Blaine says, when Kurt's thrusting slow and easy and not obliging any of Blaine's hip-driven urging. He pulls himself back, off of Kurt's fingers, and slaps his hand around wildly until it lands on the foil of the condom packet. "Need--jesus, just need you, Kurt, waited so long--"

"Okay," Kurt soothes. "Okay. Just lay back. I'll take care of you."

Blaine does as he's told, feeling wide open in every way, the slow tease of being stretched leaving him on a strange precipice of calm and wrecked. He just _needs_ , can't hang in this balance. He needs Kurt to tip him soundly over, and the edge sharpens when Kurt is sheathed and slicked and lined up.

"Blaine," Kurt says quietly, holding himself up, poised, kissing Blaine sweetly. "Blaine, I'm--I'm so glad it's you. I can't--thank you for finding me, I don't know how I--"

"It's okay," Blaine says, reaching up to stroke Kurt's cheeks. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Kurt gasps, and then there's a wide, strong pressure, and Blaine loses every bit of air in his lungs as Kurt pushes into him.

It's--it's nothing he expected. Even countless hours spent with his sex toys couldn't prepare him for the weight, the warmth, the absolute panicking shock of something so intense left entirely in someone else's control. Kurt slides into him with absolute certainty, and Blaine feels like he couldn't decide whether to breathe or not if he couldn't feel Kurt's chest heaving against his own. It's--it's the most he's ever felt, in every way, split open and spreading over Kurt's cock, his own trapped between their stomachs, sending shocks of pleasure deep into him in tandem with the smooth, overwhelming, unstoppable movement of Kurt inside him.

"Kurt," he gasps. "Kurt, please--please just move--fuck me--"

Kurt nods and shifts his knees, and then he's drawing his hips back and pushing back in, steady and easy, and Blaine can _feel_ himself dragging around Kurt, clinging to him and welcoming him back, sharp pleasure all through him. It increases and vibrates inside him, and he hurtles right to the edge of coming, writhing under Kurt's absolutely solid presence, unshakable as he fucks Blaine with absolute focus to Blaine's body, to the things he's feeling, to what he needs--

"Kurt, I'm gonna--gonna come," Blaine warns, wavering and disbelieving, and Kurt seems to like that--he just speeds his hips, lifts Blaine's legs and fucks him harder, and within a minute Blaine is wailing, clinging tight to Kurt as Kurt winds a hand down between them to stroke at Blaine's cock.

"Oh god," Kurt breathes. "I can--I can feel you getting closer, can--can feel you coming, oh my god--"

Blaine clenches up tight, harder than he ever has, cramping his muscles and shuddering until it all releases, rushing out in white streaks from his cock, pulling out the tension with it, dropping him lax to the bed as Kurt whimpers and fucks him for only another half a minute before he grinds in deep and cries out Blaine's name.

Kissing, they come down, and then Kurt rolls off of Blaine, collapsing back on the bed, wiping sweat from his brow. Blaine feels giddy and weird, light-limbed and like his veins are rushing the blood through him too loud and too loose, and he turns to Kurt and snickers.

"Thought you were supposed to be this--sex god--"

Kurt smacks his arm. "Don't you dare tell me you didn't just come your brains out, Blaine Anderson--"

Blaine giggles stupidly. "No, I did. I just--didn't expect you to come as fast as a poor virgin--all the rumors about you fucking boys all night long--"

"Don't you even start with me," Kurt laughs, gathering Blaine into his arms and squeezing him once before settling into a warm cuddle. "I'll have you know this was my first time fucking my soulmate, and on top of being intense for me, he's a fucking reverse empath and telepath who basically gave me his orgasm secondhand, it's _your_ fault--"

"Well, you'll just have to get used to that," Blaine suggests. "Practice makes perfect."

Kurt hums and smiles. "If that wasn't perfect, I don't know--"

_Tap tap tap._

They both bolt upright, almost smacking their heads together, still half-tangled. And then Kurt swears and gets out of bed, peeling off the condom and tossing it in the trash near the bed on his way to the window, naked and sweaty and gorgeous.

"Kurt, it's broad daylight," Blaine laughs, but then he catches sight of what Kurt sees at the window, the cause of the tapping.

There is a bird perched on the tiny little lip of the metal frame of the wall of windows along one wall of Kurt's bedroom, halfway up. Kurt puts his hands on the glass, and then, with a shimmer of mana that Blaine can feel raising his hairs from the bed halfway across the room, pulls back, and the bird--a raven, huge and black--hops through and flutters up to Kurt's shoulder.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asks, and the bird sends him a sardonic look that shouldn't be so clear on a face with no eyebrows and sticks out a leg. It's got a little wooden capsule strapped there with leather strips, and Kurt unties it gently. As soon as it's in his hands, the bird flies away, out the portal in the window, and Kurt waves a hand at it. It solidifies again, and Kurt walks back to the bed, opening the capsule and pulling out a little scroll of parchment.

"It's from Titania," Kurt says, a little bit of awe in his voice, and he climbs back up on the bed and settles back against the pillows next to Blaine, who rolls in and cuddles up to Kurt's side.

"What does it say?" Whatever language it's in, Blaine can't read it, but Kurt's eyes are flying over the lines, taking it all in.

"She says her official stance on our project is neutral," he says. Blaine frowns, but Kurt laughs. "But she says that the Knights will be keeping an eye on us to ensure our behavior complies with her wishes."

"But...what?"

"Blaine, if her stance is neutral, she doesn't interfere, right?" Blaine nods. "But she wants us to comply with her wishes. Meaning she doesn't wish to remain neutral. My guess is that her court wanted to stay out of it, but...but she's not thinking that way. She and Mab are sending their _Knights_ , Blaine."

"I don't know what that means," Blaine says, exasperated.

"The Knights are humans," Kurt explains. "They're like...liaisons. They do things here that the Queens need done that they don't want their hands dirty with. If she disapproved, she wouldn't tell us we were being watched, she'd just order it. Or have us killed. But she's telling us that _both_ courts are sending their Knights, _sending_ us the people who would know how to bridge the gap between Fae and human firsthand." Kurt tosses the paper to the bedside table and grabs Blaine, pulling him over until he's on top of Kurt, who wraps his arms around him and kisses him passionately. "Blaine, they're trying to help us. That, or I've been away long enough that I'm completely delusional."

"I guess I still have a lot to learn about how Fae politics work, because that would've gone completely over my head," Blaine admits. "You're sure?"

"Never," Kurt says, shrugging. "But it's a good chance. The Knights will be here soon...and we need to prepare. Tell everyone, get them ready, make plans--"

Blaine hushes him with a kiss--a convenient and enjoyable way to get Kurt to shut up, for sure. He quite enjoys it.

"I have a better idea," he suggests. "How about we get everyone ready tomorrow?"

"Why? Have you decided it's time to talk about us now?"

"No, I think that can wait a little longer."

Kurt quirks an eyebrow at him, but Blaine chooses that moment to settle down into Kurt's lap, letting him feel that he's becoming aroused again, the position putting so many ideas in his head. And he makes _sure_ Kurt sees that.

He does. His eyes widen, and then he pulls Blaine down with a groan.

"You're going to kill me," he says. "I'm trying to be a responsible leader--"

"Later," Blaine insists, kissing his way down Kurt's throat. "You've got other responsibilities."

Kurt rocks up into Blaine, surrendering to Blaine's increasingly bold explorations, his breath hitching in his chest.

"Well, this _is_ important--one of my subjects requires instruction-- _ah!_ "


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a character who has decorative branding (it's a form of tattooing, and it's what it sounds like--if that bothers you, please let me know and I'll tell you about it and recommend where not to read.)

When they finally emerge from Kurt's apartment and make their way to the bar, it's nighttime, and the bar is in full swing of business. Tina's on stage, singing an upbeat, warm song that suits her voice rather well. It would--she insists she writes all her own music, her propensity for word magic giving her a talent for putting songs together that affect her audience how she likes. Tonight, there's a happy feeling over the bar, and people are just starting to drink what will become a large amount of alcohol, if the way Elliot and Dani both rush around the bar is any indicator.

"Most of our regulars, most of our crew," Kurt says, slipping into his seat and pulling Blaine onto his lap, his legs over the side and his arms wrapped around Kurt's neck, Kurt's own arms around Blaine's waist. "Once Tina's done I'll give the news."

Tina winds up her song, and at its climax, she lets out a huge cheer and points across the room at Kurt and Blaine, clapping and grinning and leading the crowd to do the same when they see.

"Finally!" she crows from the stage, and then she finishes off the song triumphantly, and the happiness in the room is palpable. Blaine buries his face in Kurt's neck and laughs, blushing.

"Everyone knew but us," Blaine giggles.

Kurt sighs and kisses Blaine's forehead. "I think we knew, too," he says. "I don't know if that makes us even dumber."

Blaine laughs and kisses Kurt's wryly upturned lips. "The dumbest."

"Oh my god, we are so embarrassing."

Blaine laughs, and then there's no more private conversation, because they're swarmed with all of their friends, who rush them with hugs and slaps on the back.

"Everyone is finding their mate!" Tina cries. "I can't even find a decent boyfriend."

"Everyone?" Kurt asks, glancing around. "Where's Adam? Did he make it official with his man?"

"I'm right here," Adam says, appearing from the side, slipping through the little crowd. "And yes, we've made it official."

He holds up his left arm, wrist facing them, and Kurt gasps when he sees that Adam has apparently gotten a _brand_.

"Why...is that burned in?" Blaine asks, and Kurt glances at him while he reaches out to brush his fingers over the series of lines and shapes in raised, dark red scars on Adam's wrist, arranged in two lines. "What is it supposed to mean?"

"The first line is _Dli Nemetos_ ," Kurt says. "It's old Celtic, and those are the letters of our language--they're called _ogham._ It means 'sacred law.' It's the oath we make to our soulmates. The second line bears the name of the wearer's mate. It's...a bond, an acceptance of the mate into our soul's path. The brand isn't just decorative burns--there's magic involved in getting it, and it creates an unbreakable connection between mates. It's...it's a serious step. Like marriage for humans, but...deeper. I can explain more to you another--"

"Is that what...is that something we'll do?"

Kurt sighs before turning to the others with a smile. "Would you all excuse us? Blaine and I have some things to discuss."

"You just got _done_ 'discussing'," Santana says, snorting. "Don't you have some shit to tell us? Huh? A spell you did, maybe--"

"Of course," Kurt says. "But I believe Adam's mate has yet to arrive?" He looks to Adam, who nods in the affirmative of Kurt's assumption. "He will be a part of this now, and we need everyone here for the announcement. If there's anyone else we're missing, please call them in, and make sure the customers stick around, particularly the regulars. Anyone you think should be here, please--just, call them in. Blaine and I won't take long, and we'll control ourselves. Promise."

There's some good-natured grumbling, but everyone clears out, and Adam closes the curtain with a wink. A flicker of mana (and Blaine is becoming more sensitive to its movement and use every day), and Blaine knows it's solidified. They're alone.

"Why don't you sit on the stool, like our first night," Kurt suggests. "I want to be able to look at you for this."

Blaine hops off Kurt's lap and grabs the stool, dragging it up and seating himself on it. Kurt takes Blaine's hands and leans forward, smiling.

"So," Blaine says after a long pause, in which Kurt doesn't indicate any intention to speak. "We're...we're soulmates."

Kurt grins. "Yes. That's the connection we've felt. And the Queens confirmed it--they can see these things. It's hard to keep anything from them."

"I thought...I thought finding your soulmate was supposed to be this--this big revelatory _thing_ ," Blaine says, but Kurt fixes him with a _look._ "And you felt no differently about me than any other stranger?" Kurt asks dubiously. "Remember, I could hear everything in your head that night, and even after everyone else stopped being able to listen. I remember what you were feeling after the drink woke your mana. And I remember what I was feeling. That wasn't just any old meeting, Blaine, and it hasn't been just any connection beyond that."

Kurt's right. He remembers what it was like--like Kurt was a fixed point, and Blaine's world just shifted around him. He'd been unable to look away, unable to relax. He'd felt--so _much_ that night, even beyond his confusion and all the overwhelming discoveries.

"No," Blaine says. "You were different. _Are_ different. You're...you're mine."

Kurt smiles, and nods. "Yes. I am."

"So...what does that mean?" Blaine asks. "I mean...we finally got ourselves together and all. But...what does it _mean?_ "

Blaine lets Kurt in, and Kurt gets the hint, the emotions surrounding the question. The curiosity, the apprehension, the excitement.

"It means whatever we want it to mean," Kurt says. "It means that our souls--our...spirits, our mana, our very _selves_ are suited to each other. We...complete each other in a way that others can't, and it's very likely that we've met in other lives, and we'll continue to meet after this one. But that's just how we're made. We...we can choose another path, separate paths. We always have a choice."

"I don't want to choose another path," Blaine blurts. "Kurt, I...I'm here for a reason. I...I stayed for a reason, even when I was convinced you were just...god, I'm messing this up."

"No, you're not," Kurt assures. "I don't need your words to be perfect, Blaine. Just be honest with me."

Blaine takes a deep breath and lets it out in a gust. "I thought you were just interested in my body," he says. "I thought you were interested in nothing but...fucking any pretty boy that came your way."

"Until you, that was true," Kurt affirms.

"But it's not, now," Blaine says, looking up into Kurt's eyes earnestly, hoping that Kurt can see _everything_ , because that's what he wants to show to him. "You...you're my mate, Kurt. You're everything. I can't imagine a life without you, now that you're here."

"Then...that's what we do," Kurt says, and his grin is back. "We...live. We continue on our paths, and we do it together. And...eventually, if you want to, we can officially bond, like Adam and his mate."

"Can we...we can do that now, if you want," Blaine suggests, and Kurt giggles.

"It's--it's soon, Blaine," Kurt says. "It's a very serious step, and we _just_ got together. Let's make sure we truly want a unified path before we do the uniting. Give us a chance to choose, first."

Blaine pulls Kurt's left arm to him, turns it, and leaves a little kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"I'll be ready whenever you are," Blaine promises to the soft flutter of Kurt's pulse against his lips.

Kurt's breath stutters, and then Blaine feels himself yanked up and forward. He crashes into Kurt, ends up with one knee on the chair and one foot on the ground, half in Kurt's lap as Kurt tugs Blaine in by his shirt for a kiss.

"Mm, can't--can't say things like that," Kurt mumbles into Blaine's mouth. "Too--too much--"

Blaine straddles Kurt completely, and kisses him back fiercely. He tilts Kurt's face up and comes at him from above, hands in Kurt's hair, dropping to his jaw to turn his face up and bare his neck as Blaine kisses down, licking along Kurt's throat and savoring the vibrations of Kurt's moans on his tongue.

"Oh god," Kurt gasps. "Gotta--gotta be fast, nnnnn---"

Blaine grins wickedly and slides away from Kurt, down, down, till he's kneeling on the ground between Kurt's legs, hands spreading his thighs and fumbling with his belt.

"Oh my god," Kurt says, when he realizes what Blaine's doing, lifting his hips to help Blaine tug his pants down, his cock bobbing out and dripping a little onto his stomach when he settles back down. Blaine takes it in hand and licks his lips wet--wants to take Kurt in his mouth, sink right down over him-- "Oh, yeah--suck me, sweetheart, go on--that's--that's right...oh-- _oh, fuck--_ "

\--

"Oh, fuck."

Kurt all but shoves Blaine off of where Blaine had been resting on his lap, still panting and coming down after covering Kurt's shirt with come.

"Kurt, what the hell--"

"Hold on!" Kurt calls out, carefully taking off the soiled shirt and balling it up, stuffing it behind his chair. He pulls up his pants, buckles his belt, and adjusts his undershirt over it. He runs his fingers through his hair, and then looks over at Blaine. "Get dressed, come on! Someone's outside."

"Oh!" Blaine immediately checks himself over--a quick tuck and he's back in his pants, but he can't see anything else the matter with his clothes. He's just rumpled. A few tugs, and he looks up to Kurt for approval.

"You have so many hickies," Kurt says. When Blaine shrugs, he smiles. "Not so worried about sex anymore, huh?"

"Well, I'm not going to go out there and start giving them a play-by-play--"

Kurt rolls his eyes and giggles on his way to the curtain. He waves his hand, and then it flutters, letting Elliot into the room.

"I'm not going to ask," he says, "but I am all ears if you want to tell anyway."

"Nice try," Kurt says. "Is everyone here?"

"Oooh, look who's stingy with details," Elliot teases. "And as far as I know, yes. Anyone who's not here can catch up later."

He tugs a cord off to the side, and the curtain opens bit by bit. Beyond, the bar is packed, and the spotlight is on the empty stage. Kurt settles his shoulders back, tips up his chin, and heads right up to fill the spotlight and smile around at everyone gathered.

"Okay! Listen up, people."

The room goes silent. Blaine stands at the back of the crowd. All the customers are seated around the tables and perched at the bar. Adam is standing behind a lean, handsome man, leaning his chin over one broad shoulder and squeezing his arms around the man--Sebastian, his mate. Elliot is back with Dani, both frozen behind the bar. Santana, Tina, and all the others are off to the side, watching. Blaine wants a his drink, wants to let it burn in his throat sip by sip, but he stays where he is and watches his own mate on the stage, addressing his court.

"I have consulted with the Queens," he says. "They maintain neutrality, but I have the freedom to do something that I believe is necessary. Some of you already know. But for the rest of you...I'll give you the goods." His coy smirk is met with cheers and cat-calling, and Kurt lights up at the approval before finally dropping into seriousness.

"We're not safe hiding here anymore," Kurt says. When a murmur rises, he holds up his hands for silence. "Wait. Hear me out. The world is always changing. And the odds that we'd be able to stay exactly the same in it...those were never good. A Winter Lord who'd taken up residence in Brazil has been killed, along with his entire court, by humans who learned what they truly were. They slaughtered them."

Silence, rapt attention, all eyes on Kurt. Blaine can _feel_ the fear in the room.

"But we're not going to let that happen to us," Kurt continues. "We're not going to sit here and wait to be wiped out. We're not going to cower from them, run back to the mounds of our ancestors and hide in the Queens' skirts. Not a goddamn chance.

"We're going to open Widdershins to the humans. We're going to let them in. And we won't tell them anything more than necessary--but if they know us, if we provide them with something they can't get anywhere else, they will _need_ us. They will trust us. And when the time comes that our world can no longer be kept secret, they will remember all that Widdershins has done for them, and all the power we will have, and they will have no choice but to welcome us. "This is risky," Kurt says, looking around at all of them. "You know that. We'll be playing a dangerous game. But I believe that we can walk that line. I believe we can pull off a stunt that even Mab and Titania have been too afraid to try. We can let the human world in, and we can _adapt_. And once we do that, we will rise again. Glory is not just in our past. It's ours for the taking. And I plan to take it. If you aren't ready, you're welcome to leave, and I'll send you with my blessing for luck in finding a new safe haven. But I need every one of you I can get to pull this off. I'll be _proud_ to work alongside you to take back some of this world from the humans that stole it from us."

A few of the customers head for the door. Probably more than Kurt hoped, but definitely less than he expected--he just nods as they head out. But the rest stay, and Kurt turns back to them with a smirk.

"Your loyalty is appreciated, even if I know for a fact most of you are just excited by the politics," he says, and the room laughs. "Free drinks, come on! We've got work coming our way, let's have a celebration!"

There are cheers to that, and Elliot and Dani fly into action behind the bar to start doling out drinks. Kurt hops off the stage and crosses the room, eyes locked right on his mate. Eyes wild, face flushed, he pulls Blaine into his arms, kissing him fervently right there in the midst of the crowd. Those who see it send up another cheer, and Blaine laughs.

"I guess they like seeing you with someone," he says. Kurt shrugs.

"I bet these perverts just want a free show," he says, and then leans in and nips Blaine's bottom lip. "We could always give them one."

Blaine blushes and laughs out of shock. "Oh my god, Kurt."

"You think I'm joking," Kurt notes sardonically. "We'll see what you think after Beltane hits."

"Beltane?"

"Don't spoil it," Adam says, approaching hand-in-hand with his mate. "I always love to see how people react to their first Beltane when they don't know what's coming."

"I'll try to keep my mouth shut," Kurt says. He looks between the two men. "So. I finally get to meet the famous Sebastian."

He sounds strangey cold, and Blaine's brow furrows with confusion. Adam, though, apparently understands, because he hisses in a breath and holds up a hand.

"I can explain--"

"Let me."

Sebastian faces Kurt head-on, unafraid, practically _smug._ Blaine's eyes widen--even when he thought he was human, Blaine had been a little nervous of Kurt, who practically leaks power. But Sebastian evidently has no such qualms. "Who I am is not your business," Sebastian says, looking down his nose at Kurt even though he's only got a few inches on him. "Adam is my mate. My _job_ has nothing to do with that."

"Your job is a fact I should have been made aware of," Kurt snaps. "This is _my_ court. Was Mab trying to spy on me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. Mab doesn't think you're of any importance."

"Sebastian," Adam admonishes, "don't lie. Come on."

"Fine." Sebastian rolls his eyes. "It wasn't spying, though. She just wanted me nearby. In case of any...disruptions."

"What is going on?" Blaine asks. "I thought Sebastian was human."

"Blaine," Kurt says evenly. "Do you remember what I told you about the Knights?"

"Yeah, you said they were the Queens' servants, they're-- _oohhhh._ " It hits him, and he looks at Sebastian again. "You're--you're the Winter Knight."

"Guilty," Sebastian says. "Got recruited about two years back. Got sent to New York to keep an eye on the most distant of the Summer Lords, just to be safe. Just like Titania sent her man down to Brazil. But we all know how that worked out."

"And he's on his way here," Kurt confirms, and Sebastian nods.

"Should be here any day now, actually."

"No more secrets like that, please," Kurt says, and it sounds like a warning. Sebastian smirks. "Sorry, princess, but I'm the _Winter_ Knight. Save your happy lovey family shit for your own Knight. The only person I've any interest in sharing with here is Adam, and you can't force either of us t--"

"Seb, enough." Adam smiles and raises an eyebrow at him, as though he's just the most adorable ridiculous thing, and then shakes his head at Kurt. "Don't worry, if there's anything pertinent, you'll know."

"Thank you," Kurt says, and Blaine almost laughs at the triumph in his voice. Sebastian's rubbed him the wrong way, and all of them know it. Blaine grabs his hand and pulls his attention.

"Buy me a drink?" he suggests.

Kurt rolls his eyes--and relaxes, _good_. "Fine, I'll go _buy_ your drink. But as soon as the bar closes, we're having a planning session with the crew, so don't expect too much."

He slips away through the crowd, and Blaine smiles and watches him--and, okay, maybe checks out his ass a little. It's interesting, now knowing what it feels like in his hands.

"God, you two really are soulmates," Adam laughs. Blaine sends him a grin.

"Yeah," he says. "We really are."


	10. Epilogue

_Eight months later..._

There are _so many candles._ Every stable surface is covered--the bedside tables, the the dresser, the table by the window, the chest across from the foot of the bed. Candles upon candles, all different sizes, white wax dripping over everything, the flames soft but bright.

Blaine slides into Kurt, _finally_ , he's wanted this all day. But they couldn't--it's a special day, and it's been a special week. An entire week spent apart--in meditation, in cleansing, in peace. It's not a necessary practice, before a bonding, but Kurt wanted to do this one thing the way his ancestors did, the traditional way, and Blaine had agreed. It hadn't been a nuisance or anything, but the moment he saw Kurt that morning, he'd wanted to take him, show him how much he was missed, show him that Blaine loves him and wants him and can't wait to show it.

But they'd simply gotten into the car, held hands, and traveled enough outside the city that there was some significant space without people, a two and a half hour drive. They'd parked, and walked into the forest, and in the clearing, they'd met with a Fae priestess who'd bound them together. She'd offered them a special potion, and then taken their blood, mixed it, and bound it with mana before dipping a special-cut wand into it and then using it to brand them, one stroke at a time, alternating between them, chanting all the while. It had taken several hours, from the moment they'd knelt before each other to the moment they held hands and rose from the ground, and then they'd kissed and the priestess had vanished. They'd returned to the car, driven back down, and then Kurt had made Blaine take a bath while he'd taken a quick shower and prepared the room with--all these beautiful fucking candles.

"I love you," Kurt whispers, when Blaine is fully sheathed inside of him. He hitches his legs up around Blaine's waist, holds Blaine's face between his hands, and _breathes_ it. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Blaine says, and Kurt is so stunning in the candlelight. His forehead is beaded with sweat, his eyes are shining, he's trembling and Blaine is, too--this feels like nothing else. They're _bonded_ , finally, and it's like every piece of their hearts has bloomed, spreading, making more room to hold the love for each other that has been steadily growing in the eight months since they'd settled into each other.

And now here they are. Bonded soulmates. Promised to each other, linked inexorably. They will live every day together. And they will, one day, die together, and travel to the next life with their connection only strengthened, ready to find each other again.

Blaine feels like he's completely cloaked in this feeling, and he closes his eyes, overwhelmed by it. Even completely enveloped by Kurt, he doesn't feel grounded. So he turns his head, kisses Kurt's wrist, still raw and fresh. He barely brushes it, but Kurt clenches up around him and then lets out a weak cry, arching beneath him. He pulls back and kisses Kurt's parted lips, and begins to rock inside him.

"God, Kurt, you feel so good," Blaine whimpers, nuzzling Kurt's cheek and trying to keep a slow, steady pace, far too tempted by the bare feeling of Kurt tight around his cock to just let go and fuck him until they're both coming as soon as possible. But not tonight. "You do too," Kurt gasps in return, twisting his hips up to match Blaine's thrusts, pulling him in harder, deeper. "Oh fuck--Blaine, please--please, stay here with me--"

"I'm not going anywhere," Blaine promises, holding Kurt tight. He knows exactly how Kurt feels--like even this close isn't close enough, like they can't ever have too much of each other, like they'll shatter and break apart if they ever have to part. It's a shaky, irrational worry, but they'd felt it the moment they'd been bonded, and had clenched their hands together the whole ride home. It was expected to get easier to bear as time went on, even to ignore, but now, it is fresh, and Blaine just wants to be surrounded by Kurt completely, to feel him alight on every nerve in his body. He settles for kissing his mate and fucking him just a little harder. "I'm not going anywhere, Kurt. I'm right here with you."

Kurt sobs and abandons himself to Blaine. The trust is heady, and Blaine is determined to always make that trust worth it for Kurt, to keep it safe and make it the most satisfying experience possible for both of them.

"Let me in?" Blaine requests quietly, when the candles are flickering and dimming as the wicks burn down, the wax pooling, and the light is no longer flaring fresh.

Kurt gasps, and nods, eyes half-shut, fingers scrabbling at Blaine's back, holding him close. Blaine smiles and leans down, adjusting just enough to hopefully give Kurt the best angle. He leans their foreheads together.

And then he drops every barrier, and they let each other in.

They don't do it often. It's intense, and it can have collateral effects. But everyone knows what tonight is, and they're downstairs celebrating and keeping their own shields firmly up and their ears closed. This night is for them alone, though, and they don't have to care if they lose control. It's just them in the world, now.

It's finally like an itch has been scratched, for Blaine, being that close to Kurt, letting Kurt see into his heart like this, and letting Kurt into his, returning the trust tenfold. It's like he can see _all_ of Kurt, like they're inside each other's skin, like they're surrounded by each other. And there's a feedback loop--Blaine, after all, has a special talent for pushing his emotions and thoughts into others, and while he's developed other powers over the months that supplement that, it's the base of his power. He gives Kurt every throb of pleasure, every sweet, stinging beat of his heart, every spark down his spine when Kurt squeezes him tight. And in return, he takes what Kurt feels--all the aching fullness, the sharp spikes of his own pleasure, and the trembling vulnerability of being so taken apart--and it feeds into him, and then back to Kurt, back and forth and back and forth until he's pounding into Kurt, crying out and wrapping him up and tugging him down as he thrusts up, jolting desperate wails from Kurt's mouth.

"Oh, fuck, I love you," Blaine groans, and Kurt just whimpers incoherently and holds Blaine close with arms and legs and the hot clasp of his ass, over and over and over-- "Fuck, Kurt--I'm gonna-- _fuck_ \--"

" _Blaine_ \--"

The sharp build of pleasure crests, and Blaine comes, mouth open, silent, body seized tight, matching Kurt's below him as Kurt spills hard over their stomachs, exhaling broken, sobbing cries into where he's pressed his face against Blaine's shoulder, too open, too revealed to let himself be exposed to anything but Blaine. And so neither of them notice when the candles flare up alarmingly, filling the room with heat and light, and then, burnt too quickly, the wicks crumbling into ash before the wax can drip and reveal more, they sputter and die out, and Blaine collapses in Kurt's arms.

They lay in silence and in darkness for a long time, holding onto the feeling that they are truly, entirely _together_ in that moment. But finally, Blaine's dick slips free of Kurt's body, accompanied by a little grunt from Blaine.

Kurt snickers and whispers, "Are you alive?"

Blaine wants to give him a witty reply, but he just grunts again, and Kurt laughs again, shaking underneath Blaine.

"You're heavy, get off," he says. Blaine smacks his thigh lightly and then rolls to the side, pulling him along. "Can you talk yet?"

"Yes," Blaine replies sleepily. "But why?"

"Because I want you to tell me you love me," Kurt says. Blaine smiles.

"Fine. I love you."

"I love you, too."

\--

There is a much bigger crowd than the kind they used to have before they opened up when then come down the next night.

"They survived!" Tina calls, on stage when they sit down at their usual table that sits where Kurt's throne used to be. It's small--only big enough for three people at a pinch, comfortable with two--but it works for them. They spend most of their nights here, and anyone who wants to speak to Kurt knows that Blaine will always be there, too, at the only table for two they have in the place.

The crowd cheers and laughs, and Blaine blushes as he remembers a much smaller crowd cheering very much like that the night after he and Kurt first entered their relationship, the night Kurt announced his intention to do what they have now already done. Widdershins is open, and it's changed only a little, but enough. Backstage is now an addition on the side of the building, and every room on the first floor but the kitchen has been opened up to add to the bar space. The rooms upstairs are completely filled, rather than mostly empty like they once were. The only thing completely unchanged is Kurt's apartment on the top floor, and the circle of friends he keeps close to him while the world tries to get closer.

It's been a rousing success. It's not been easy, but they're making their way up the food chain, rising in society. At this point, they're a highly exclusive club, only the richest humans welcomed onto the waiting list. Kurt has the ear of many important people, and those people are sure they have his as well, but Kurt's remarkably good at this game. He keeps people happy, with his performers and his drinks and his watchful eye and his absolute ability to keep a secret. And the other Fae keep them happy by being...available. Not for money. But for good favor, certainly. They all play the game. And they all _love_ it. The only ones who don't play that way are the mated couples--Adam and Sebastian, Kurt and Blaine, and the final pairing made.

Sam, the Summer Knight, is a good friend of Blaine's, now. And about three months after Widdershins opened, a big pop star named Mercedes had come by for a visit, and fallen right into Sam's arms. She's so far the only human who isn't a Knight that knows their true nature, and she performs for them sometimes, to draw in even bigger clientele. They aren't really _mates_ , per se--Sam's magic is borrowed for his position as Knight, and Mercedes has none at all, so they can't really tell like Adam and Sebastian could. They're just in love--and it works out fine, despite Mercedes being on the road a lot, and Sam sticking around Widdershins so he can make regular reports to Titania.

He rushes over to them now, hugging Blaine right out of his seat.

"Yeah, man!" he cries. "You're actually married and shit!"

"Um, yeah, sorta," Blaine agrees, laughing. "How've things been without us?"

"Great, Santana had lots of crazy sex with Dani and ran the place while Dani slept it off," Sam says. "You'd think she'd be dead by now."

"Santana wouldn't kill her," Kurt says. "She's a surprisingly decent person when you get past the devil horns and the dragon claws. And she likes Dani."

"Yeah, well, you're back now, so I bet Dani wouldn't mind the break." Sam looks around, shifty, and Kurt almost rolls his eyes. It's immediately obvious when Sam is trying to be furtive, and calls more attention to it than not. "So...we got a couple queen bees who'd like to check the honey."

It's technically a password, though Sam's the only one who uses the many passwords he'd come up with so they could speak in front of people. But Kurt just smiles and nods.

"Face to face?"

"Nah," Sam says. "Um. They're sending a couple of their bees over to check out the flowers around here. If you...get what I mean."

"I got it, Sam," Kurt says, not unkindly. "Might I inquire as to why?"

"Setting up new hives, bro," Sam says, clapping Kurt on the shoulder. "This one's working out so good, they want to keep it coming. I think like...four people like you have asked to set up a joint like this. Not, like, a bar, but you know. A _beehive._ "

Kurt and Blaine share a look. New Fae havens, opened to the human world to gain influence and power. If they have copycats, they're far more successful than they even realized. And the Queens are taking notice.

"I understand," Kurt says. "Thank you, Sam. Would you convey my utmost thanks to Titania, and let her know that I'll cooperate?"

"Sure thing, dude."

He leaves, and instantly Adam nods and catches Kurt's eye, sidling up.

"We've got a few people here tonight that would like to speak to you, Kurt," Adam says, smiling. "Shall I send them over, or should I let them know you're still celebrating with your...husband?"

That word, agreed to be used with humans for whom marriage is the only equivalent for what he and Kurt are to each other without revealing more than they want to reveal, still sends a thrill through Blaine, raised human as he was. He smiles sadly--what would Cooper say, or his parents? What would his old classmates say, knowing he was married to the owner of New York's hottest new place, and a performer there, after dropping off the face of the earth?

He looks up at Kurt, and Kurt raises an eyebrow. Blaine shrugs. They're soulmates--and as much as he would love to have Kurt every second of the day, Kurt has obligations, and at the end of the night, they'll head upstairs together and make love and fall asleep in each other's arms. He can let Kurt do his job without getting too needy.

Kurt looks up, smiling. He loves what he does. He loves the intrigue, the wordplay, the exchanging of favors. He was born to do this. Blaine was born to love him while he does.

"Send them over."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. Keep an eye on the tag on my tumblr for future oneshots in this 'verse. Also, if you missed it, there will be a link to a glossary of terms from this story in the first chapter.


End file.
